A Brittle Boquet

My life has become a brittle bouquet Of dead red roses in rapid decay And all that I thought one day I could be Is now but a part of lost history. I look to the East and yearn for the West, Confusion conceals the best of my quest. Lost to the ages and rages of time, Dreams of destruction destroy my sublime. Life's haunting refrain just leaves me with pain, I see only loss while looking for gain. Shattered and battered from reckless crusades, While searching for truth but truth always fades. Bitter and broken my life out of hand, Darkness descending as I make a stand. I once was an eagle, flying so high, But I lost my wings and then lost the sky. Born with great gifts to both give and receive, And when I was young, my youth did believe, But then I became a pawn in the game Of pleasure and pain, both buried in shame. Disease of the mind I carried at birth, A bipolar life would measure my worth. Paternal genetics, a father's first gift; Our two brains afflicted predicted the rift. My childhood erratic emphatic with fears Where highs too high and lows too low brought tears. All chance of normal family stripped bare Where blood to blood no love would dare to share. Illusion with confusion then to war As wasted worn tore through my inner core. With hope I leave those years of fear behind For now the time has come to heal the mind So it can make this man forever free, Immersed in verse with life's grand poetry; This man who loves his sacred family Is part of the bark that beautifies its tree.