Melancholy and Friends
Melancholy chokes this throat of mine with ease. It knows me all too well. Stricken with this condition of repetitious allowance, my stomach quivers from the pain. Mind gutted. Photos eradicated. Memories burned in the flames of hatred. Melancholy puts up quite the fight. Thrashing around within a sound face, it feels nothing, and prefers to produce nerves only to paralyze them with this condition. Melancholy kills my soul, melancholy kills my fate, melancholy kills itself while it proudly reincarnates into a void with no return.