I should take up the pen to write it away,
Apathy wins…so there the pen lay.
Rid my soul…this melancholy pest?
Is there a way? Or do none exist?
She grabs your throat through thinnest of cloth.
Uninvited she crawls… right into your mouth.
She reeks of bitter there is no doubt,
But swallow you must, there’s no way out.
Damn this melancholy…a gift from Poe?
Taking me down to the pits below.
Into the tunnel I feel my way.
No light to see, no presence of day.
I’ve been here before…a time or two.
Now, that’s a lie…Tis more than a few!
There is a place…Oh can it help?
But the grass is high…have the cards been dealt?
Anyone home? Please…can you be there?
Please open the door… show me you care.
I call and call but no sound from you.
A step I hear and your laughter too.
This slap in the face I take on the chin.
So many times…and yet, now, again?
Over and over a deaf ear you turn,
So I’m nobody…no one of discern?
I take my leave to walk in time,
Faces I see…Do they see mine?
No, faceless am I …no story to tell,
So back go I…where the melancholy dwell.
In a moment…brief though it may be,
I think I hear you, coming for me.
But then the silence around me drape,
A cloak of death…Should I partake?
This hole of despair I know I should climb.
Before it’s too late and I run out of time.
And so here I lay…my own little world.
This house of Poe…within I am curled.
Should I try…just one more knock?
Could it be true…Will the door unlock?
A face to gain and in dignity dwell?
No… is resounded from the pits of hell!
Into my cave with blackest of hue
Survival’s a myth…and I just don’t want to.