November 2010
2 posts
Cope
Why is it that melancholy tends to predominate the atmosphere Weeks of fruitless labor have become my bane and the trials grow bleaker This gloom hangs over every injustice and every cornered stare Like a noose around the neck of a proud but broken martyr To endure this is a weighty task Three years past, under the constant and rising pressure of ignorance To endure this, is it too much to ask...
Nightly downpour, viewed from dark warped glass the presence she poses is all I could ask for I’d sing her songs till my voice would give in Hold her in my arms till my bones were decrepit
Sunshine is your game, and I love to play Banish this night with the light your Smile that rival celestial displays Remedy my hypochondria