What desolation drove him to escape the maze laced in his mind?
An adventurous soul awakening a deadly desire?
Or the herb with no will of its own that sent him to lunacy?
Was it hopelessness and emptiness of the concept of being in itself?
That a mind, so desperately enshrouded with worry and misery
A heart so desolate for love that wasn’t there to be received after all.
His secrets, he took to his grave,
Hanging from a yellow noose in grandma’s basement.
SNAP! A broken mind and neck beyond repair.

What could be said to give him hope?
What was to be done that wasn’t done already?
He was either too calm or too violent.
Too cool or too hot. His temper over steaming like a titanic boiler.
Nonetheless shackled to icy concreted floor,
For if let unfastened, some poor fellow would suffer the consequence
of his violent hand.

Who was to blame? Allies that dug the brick walls and smuggled the herb?
The herb in itself that authored his demise? Or his broken will?
Was it friend or foe? Love or hate or mere evil?
To feed a mind so destroyed with the very poison that had him anchored to his wants?
His demons, too strong for him to tackle,
he finally gave in to their fetters.
They won. They finally won.
Absorbing his essence into the realm of no return.
The place for everyone but just one at a time.
Hopefully, his demons didn’t follow him to the yonder lands
wherein, he might find rest and eternal sleep.
fast flowing forever farewell, friend.
for the earth is but temporary.