Unmade Lemonade

I again brood,
On nonsense musings of mine.
Which I make nothing of,
Life gave me lemons,
I didn't make lemonade.
Not enough sugar in me,
So, all lemons led to ashtray.

I watch the sunset and sunrise,
Pretending to be Buddha,
Out of touch,
Practicing cool facade,
Detachment allures me,
I feel I am beginning to
Know what it's all about.

It happens,
When, every possible dreams
Has been doomed.
No hope.
Thus, no ropes.

Perhaps I am approaching enlightment?

No, not that soon.

I like the long road.
This suffering,
This echoing sadness,
All are of my own doings.

I secretly love,
My prolonging agony.
I thrive in pain.
It's like a medicine of asthma,
Helping me to go on,
With cold life.

Happiness no longer satisfies me.
So, I have chosen suffering.