GOTHIC POEM (come on, everyone needs at least one)

My happiness like autumn turns brown

Dries out rivers of sympathy

My hope is like winter and turns rivers ice

The sunshine in spring, up before the break of dawn hints at my poker face

Summer weather droughts every thought

Strangles the idea to strive with heatstroke

In the sunshine it’s understood

when that little voice says

It's a ride  toward  madness

Caress your dreams with nightmares in your bed

You'll see what others have bled for

their secrecy shall lie with the nightmares you keep