melancholy

Where the water is dry,

Where the fire is wet,

A river of tears stream from my eyes.

Where the sun is dark and gray,

and the sky is mucky blue,

I wander with no place to stay.

Where lips curl downwards,

where the only noise is a spark of hatred,

I climb outwards.

To the west of despair,

To the east of endless flares,

To the south of gloom,

To the north of wilted instead of bloomed.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s