The Consequence of Grief

Cried for the sun when the clouds brought rain,

even though I never wanted to see the sun again.

I never understood my own mass confusion,

the thoughts of a maniac bordering delusion.

Asleep at the wheel with a cliff straight ahead,

awaken in a cold sweat in the comfort of my bed.

Came looking for respite from the senseless worry,

running like a maniac with no reason to hurry.

Trapped inside lies the consequence of grief,

the product of questions and misplaced belief.

Broken and beaten, forgotten and forlorn,

my agony, my misery, the source of my scorn.