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)