To Leave My Window Abroad

I have no method to madness,

I simply write what I think.

Whether be joy or be sadness,

to step back from the brink.

Sometimes I'll think of a love felt libretto,

times other I'll hash out at the point of stiletto.

My mind can be tranquil and peaceful, serene.

It may also be hateful and spiteful, obscene.

I don't like to show demons, though they claw their way out.

Though it sometimes seem better than to leave them to pout.

"Leave from me, my creatures, so my mind is left kinder."

But when I glance at my works, they left me reminder.

I'm not sure I'm happy, leaving my window abroad,

as sometimes I'm not sure if I should curse or applaud.

It's constant struggle, of heart, mind, good and evil.

Sometimes suppression I feel, and others upheaval.

Why can't it be clear? Why can't I enjoy?

Is this a sick game, myself cursed to toy?

Author's Note

Just a quick poem to get out my conflicted thoughts. Please let me know what you think, and whether or not you experience this conflict as well.