Succumbed to Melancholy

Grief plays upon the emotions with an insane urge for revenge. Sometimes, even the laws of nature need a scapegoat.
Day is dark and long is night,
Succumbed to melancholy,
Life hangs on threads of twilight,
Where blackness snips it boldly,
Veiled in wisps of mourning lace,
To hide the tears of sorrow,
That cannot bear to see the face,
That hides behind the shadow.

Love's brief alliance with a smile,
Radiant in trust,
Desirous of expectant child,
Unprepared for the worst,
A shroud of gray envelopes,
In drapes of disbelief,
Into black develops,
The deep mistrust of grief.

Blame proportioned all around,
The finger points away,
Dead ignorance can't hear the sounds,
That rise beyond the grave,
Accusations hold no end,
God's will is strange indeed,
Proportioned blame cannot defend,
Guilt born of the deed.

Madness creeps with dark desire,
The urged revenge is strong,
Cold anger burns the hands with fire,
That must undo the wrong,
In a moment of insanity,
That sinks to deepest depths,
Completely void of sympathy,
In the cold numbness of death.
Published: 3/25/2013
Bouquets and Brickbats