It seems that, for the longest time,
I could never write.

My mind can be full at times,
Full of beautifully poetic words.

But nowadays, I can't think
In the form of verses and stanzas.

I have tried so hard to turn this
Mess of madness into some form of beauty,

That I began to lose track
Of when beauty faded to madness,

So much so
That it started to consume me,

Wearing away
At my very soul.