The Castallions Revenge Poem by Timothy Long

Love wasnt happiness for me it was dreadfullness, never to cry for another again, am i weak, or a poor soul, the way for us to cry is to die, the regret of thinking to much can kill you so in groaning madness, tasting the tears spilling into words stinging the youth, let the kind die sleeping peacefully, not the violent to disware in a pundging vortex of no excstiense, a child destroyed pityed a man with no meaning, is anything a mad man left with no saying, enough solace to die, we
all are going to die, we all deserve to die as destined in fates, dreams forever will and always will be enternal, fearing a fear that cannot be tamed unless a scapegoat is to be blamed, fleeing a never ending bridge of shame, plans of death narrowly avoided, is it the rage or the feeling of betrayl, both can eat you away, a hero unearthed hidden in a villian, gods cut you down like a cast away, knowing your dead even to the end left a shattering excistence of unloved parentalness, anything thing left
is a gleaming madness of unfit revenge.