Reckless

I turned away from Reason
                            SettlEd into apathy.
                     Started Chasing danger
                      Would Kill to feel adrenaline.
                                   Left little of my former
              When I gavE into insanity.
                                  Slowly losing hope
                    SeamleSsly turning cold.

Desolate

 Have you ever studied how a basket is woven? The handmade kind. I have always loved the concept. Even made a few in an art class as a kid.

Imagine a basket that you've started, but grew bored of making, so you shoved it somewhere till you found inspiration again.

Imagine you somehow picked up a random extra color, but just kept weaving it in anyways.

He was my random strand, but I kept weaving him in anyways, and before I knew it, I had a beautiful design, in an otherwise plain basket.

He was green to my bleak world, and then he left, leaving me with a colorless life.

What do you do with the basket? Put it on display for people to see? Risk that they'll ask what inspired you to add that random strand? The one that made such an intricate and beautiful design?

Do you burn it? Hoping the sorrows blow away with its ashes?

Or do you carefully place it in a box, that you hide in the depths of your closet, along with the rest of those memories. Where you know its there, but its possible to semi forget?

I have a basket, that serves no purpose.