Blind

Disingenuous and frugal to planted seeds,                                                                                                                            
Flourish of floret in spurn for the sake of weeds.

Chorus notoriously never sleeps,
Twister of emotions,
Conniving, summarising,
Scenarios in motions.

Succumbed to disquietude,
In solitude I wander,
Such avenues I venture of
Self-affliction and blunder.

Nimiety of thought, wrought,
Insanity grows, I fear,
Consumed by events out of sort,
Behind clasped hands I leer.

Procrastinate in magnitude,
Null of gratitude in taint.
Blank canvass sporadically splattered,
Quite I picture I hope to paint.