There will be days when you’re escatic in love

But some days you will be broken and lost

 Weeks will flash in hurried excitement

but some weeks will weaken your will

to fights through days for god knows what

Yet some month might make you new

although such periods may seem too few

At times you will laugh like a silly monkey 

all your teeth flashing in their (un)even splendor

And soon after tragedy may arrive in some form

Or nothing might happen and yet she will visit

Melancholy in all her intensity and might

Yet all of it will end, even if it is brief

like spring doth die, so does grief

all that we feel seems mind’s mischief

(Well, I wrote this hours after reading a post on Blahpolar Diaries and although the poem does not have to do anything with what I read, the title was sort of inspired from the material and my own afterthought)