A Confusion Of Youth

Youth is the valued excuse, For both the foolish and Those cast upon sins dark bossom Yet for my grasp into this dark mirrorsreach, I cannot see more than black. As Ares, i neither fear death, Yet fear life renewed, Created in my eye, And as many sad faces at a wake, Many a frown upon my brow, Those lines, of envy and remorse, But tears of joy can be cried by any man, but tears shed stood in hell, are sweeter to the taste. Yet what circle would i grace? What brooding misfortune shadows my Unbeaten path? In this short existance, what lfie am i to lead? In the next, is it to be decided? For a sinners demise, am i to be the bearer of a Thousand generations regrets? Or a thousand years thoughts, Trapped in my mind?