Flower

Psychotic mind, impossible climb,
sanity to insanity, dollar to dime.
Clocks cease to tick, no more a friend to pick.

Start of the story a must, but is it I you even trust?
If I tell will you listen, listen to my tale of love and lust?
Few care for friends, they care not at all.

Odds of love so low, rare do hearts aglow.
Times of love so short, but love I always show.
Left I always am, left in tears awaiting death.

I see her face, in my slowing mind, wishing to escape my old bind.
I loved, to be left with a mountain to climb.
A mountain of hate and misery.

Psychotic thoughts flow fast, death will forever last.
Do I want death, like shown on the newscast?
Yes, but death I do fear.

I am but a sad man, loving all when I can.
Love I do not receive, so I am the psycho clan.
Crazed, yet not murderous. Mentally ill, yet loving.

Hated, because I am sad, yet rarely bad.
Alone, now, never to be a dad.
Life, but a flower, blooms to wilt overnight.