If age is a constant then daydreams and nightmares
will cease to exist when the best of life is achieved
as maturity stabilizes at a level of immaturity favors
the innocence in confidence-mired ill-retrieved
those hopelessly enwrapped by rhetorical triggers
stemmed by the proposer amongst the ill-believed
'tis liken a heist at gunpoint to corner those regretters
to have brains (methinks) to cusps their mind deceived
and churned their souls to enter their relievers
and entertain the premature notion that they conceived
participants to ascertain the wherewithal of achievers
better or best consciously the line of inquiry perceived
to mull over and enter the zone as one of the leavers
to post with the best, to the winners be my best-wished.
This heart can be so disturbed, I know not
With the love of a pretty girl, a poet
It thinks of her every second and minute
All it breaths, is the love of that poet
It's quite a long that this heart is breathed of love
For in it mind - fluff is love:
No time to love, but to face it way
Now, this breath of love is not a play
Yet, the poet gives a damn
As your proposer-is-condemn
But would I succumb?