Critique my poem!

Terminable sorrows of airy thoughts.

Wreaking havoc for no purpose but chaos.

Stuck in delirium, never knowing when it ends.

Nothing to do but learn to cope.

Slapped around my cheeks by a million violent thoughts,

I sometimes wonder if you like my red cheeks.

I tread carefully near the road you live.

To take a glance at the center of my blur.

You terrible wonderful chaotic thing.

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