You see before you a shrine I worshiped oft,
Yet it took me quite some time to realize I was becoming lost.
For so long I wondered why all I touched turned to sh*t
But finally figured out the problem I was; this was it.
I had to hit rock bottom in order to change and
find other misfits, and try to explain that
life is much better when substances do not rule one's
every thought and action...
and one learns to cool down our alien tendencies and rage...
In time we don't feel like that animal caged.
The time of the brilliant poet, musician or painter dying so young
Is hopefully ending, and to a new way we have clung.
In hopes of unlocking our innermost peace,
Creativity and harmony never wishing to cease
Maybe even one day they will be able to prove
This is no disease, but a fragile, passionate love
A genetic mutation which wants with all its might
To push us to compose, to paint and to write.
Sir Lyon Downes
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pick-of-the-brick-evil-spirits/
