Gary F. Demello
The guilt of innocence,
The sweetness of pain,
The death of life,
Chaos gone inane!
The misery of happiness,
The versatility of change,
Yet, somehow, stuck
In the randomness of the plain.
Hidden all, still the same!
Is my mind, playing a cruel game?
Or is it that,
I see, the suffering of sadness
In the genius of madness,
The pleasure of insanity,
Riding courses, through my pulsating veins!?
What am I to do? What am I to say?
When I am diseased by society's own play.
Engulfed by the impending doom,
Trapped by my glory wound.
I see now, there is not a clear difference
Between the chaotic, and the useless,
Ordered display!
I am the one, binding the chains.
For perception is the key,
And my life is but a small entry fee.
