Pain Of Confusion Poem by Boston Kelley

The primal chaos overcomes me
And my lips bend not with glee.
I drown beneath raging waters
As chaos makes me one of its many martyrs.
This mind was once an ordered place;
Governed, did it seem, was that great space.
The rivers of chaos broke their dams
And flooded those many mental lands.
Cities of clarity fell from sight
Like day being conquered by the blackest night.
Plains of peace covered by disarray
No longer resembling the calm of May.
I groan in the wake of the flood
As if a tear has exposed my blood.
A hope for peace I greatly hold
Lest confusion renders my heart cold.