I Have had to Learn to Exist in Reality
 
In morose mental solitude,
I breathe the jagged air
of insanity.
 
I am constantly perplexed
by the ever conscious realization
of death.
 
Having been born from the nothingness
of the magical womb world,
into
an ephemeral Earth existence,
has caused me
to go mad.
 
I paint my soul
with rainbows,
           peacocks,
              and prisms,
so that I, may color
the gloomy clouds of my mind
and exist in the beautiful arrays of being,
but I am still trapped
in melancholy, an enigmatic life,
and ambiguous destiny.
 
How can anyone
be sane,
knowing
they
will
one day die?
Are you?
Can you tell me?


​​Michael Sell