An auspicious vicissitude
Can easily become a brevity of euphoria
And emotions become a poetic verbiage
In our unuttered votive of veracity
Due to our mind's vicarious compliance with our heart's volition

A recurring chant.
One that makes many of those who suffer
Compulsive liars
whether it be towards others
or themselves.

Even now, even if I keep what is written to myself, I cannot help but hold back.
It is all I've ever done, all I've ever known.
Symphonies in my mind,
entire stories, movies unable to be unleashed.
Masterpieces longing to break free.
All stuck, trapped in my head.
Scared to admit what lies and hides inside me to the world and myself.
Enveloped in a blanket of numbness, the fiery passion dwindling.
You being my inspiration,
But lacking the will and strength to write.

In this field where red roses die,
turns black and shrivels and dry,
Is where tulips thrive,
Yellow and white they multiply,
Dyed grey is the sky,
As storm clouds roll by,
An icy wind bites, despite
The raging fire inside.
Here, love is despised
As all is deprived.
This is where dreams, hope, and desire
Shall meet its demise
In solitude, due time.