Juanita
New Member
- Joined
- Mar 21, 2004
- Messages
- 232
- Reaction score
- 0
The Melancholy Melody
The darkness, the shadows
The cold draft from a cracked window
The smell of death hovers in the air
The floor stained with tainted tears
The sorrows, the misery
The broken pain of losing a loved one
The agony of loneliness takes over your heart
Grief comes out in black
The acid rain, the rolling thunders
Washing away the sins you executed
To be drowning in the depression pool
Generating thyself a pictorial world
The purity, the innocents
Pithiness made for the slaughtered
Wrapped in the thorny webs of lies
Break, bruise, and bleed for the deception
The haunting music, the painful cries
Of those murdered and left to die
Cruelty is a part of me and you
Immaturity of one's senses
The judgmental twists, the cynical clarifications
The pulsation of the gavel on the wood
The roars of the sharks' claims
The gentle stirs of the weeping widow
The tinkling, the banging
The rhythm of tin cups against the bars
Scraps of edible food on the cold, damp floor
The forlorn howls of those one too many caged souls
The invisible, the unknown
Visions blurred as one tries to know others
The ability to recognize beyond possible
The blankness of one's mind as one tries to think
The voice of a crooning raven
The melancholy melody, it sings
Sadness spreads across the land
As the lone bird continues the song
The darkness, the shadows
The cold draft from a cracked window
The smell of death hovers in the air
The floor stained with tainted tears
The sorrows, the misery
The broken pain of losing a loved one
The agony of loneliness takes over your heart
Grief comes out in black
The acid rain, the rolling thunders
Washing away the sins you executed
To be drowning in the depression pool
Generating thyself a pictorial world
The purity, the innocents
Pithiness made for the slaughtered
Wrapped in the thorny webs of lies
Break, bruise, and bleed for the deception
The haunting music, the painful cries
Of those murdered and left to die
Cruelty is a part of me and you
Immaturity of one's senses
The judgmental twists, the cynical clarifications
The pulsation of the gavel on the wood
The roars of the sharks' claims
The gentle stirs of the weeping widow
The tinkling, the banging
The rhythm of tin cups against the bars
Scraps of edible food on the cold, damp floor
The forlorn howls of those one too many caged souls
The invisible, the unknown
Visions blurred as one tries to know others
The ability to recognize beyond possible
The blankness of one's mind as one tries to think
The voice of a crooning raven
The melancholy melody, it sings
Sadness spreads across the land
As the lone bird continues the song