O incomparable Giver of life, cut reason loose at last!

Let it wander grey-eyed from vanity to vanity.

Shatter open my skull, pour in it the wine of madness!

Let me be mad, as You; mad with You, with us.

Beyond the sanity of fools is a burning desert

Where Your sun is whirling in every atom:

Beloved, drag me there, let me roast in Perfection!

The winds that blow
And feel through my soft skin
Not only make me feel cold and chilly
But give me a feel of something piercing

At rapid speeds they blow
Through all directions
See to that you falter
And just give up by taking no more of it

However this minor calamity would meet you everyday
And within a matter of time, you'll be encompassed by it
But keep one thing in mind
You will always be stronger than it

The winds that blow
And feel through my soft skin
Not only make me feel cold and chilly
But give me a feel of something piercing

At rapid speeds they blow
Through all directions
And see to that you
You fall and

But there's one thing
That should always be in your mind
That you are stronger than the winds

I guess you could call it poetic how by the age of 12 I had no recollection of what happiness tasted like on my tongue. Some would say it was tragically beautiful.
But it was not poetic, nor was it beautiful,  but it was tragic. It was so very, very sad, and that sadness is only doubled now that people see sorrow as glorious.  It is not glorious. It is not strength. It is a lump of iron in your chest and stomach and it eats you from the inside, out and you have no right to think that blood stained wrists are anything other than tragic. So very,  very tragic.