Mr. Vincent, here I come!

Its quite a marvel how every little happening gets stored inside me and I add to it, with each passing moment, every passing hour, day and then one day it eventually wells up and when I am not able to contain it within myself any longer, it gushes forth like a torrent of angry rain and singes everything it touches. Sadness, depression is overwhelming. It consumes you and shields you from the red parody that is society. Pain is instruction, pain is self-discovery and in that, it is beautiful and great.
For now, I'll turn to the poem I wrote about a certain Mr. Vincent. Here it is for you to laugh at:

Mr. Vincent will wallop

He likes a dollop-

of ice-cream

and has dreams-

of cows.

Takes a bow.

He wears a coat

Rows a boat.

He likes to swim,

Has a female twin,

has regular fights,

his pants are tight.

His skin tone is light,

he thinks he is always right.

On sunny mornings, Pinky bright,

He goes to bathe in the tank dressed in might.

He loves to kiss,

and on Thursday evenings piss-

that is very yellow,

then he feels mellow.

You can tell,

if you ring a bell,

He won’t respond,

But with his ego you can bond.

That is, this is for now,

go and pluck a brow,

For Vincent’s story is nearing an end,

beyond this, there is no bend.