Melancholy

It’s not what you see but what you get
Hidden in our psyche it calmly resides
Ingenuously it lacerates heart and soul
Creating calm or quetus to the suffering
Painstaking is the journey of the dote
Neither realize the struggle or strength

It’s not what doesn’t kill that keeps alive
Unaware that it splinters joy and levity
Melancholy takes over whatever is left
Empathy vacillates and is beyond repair
What remain are broken relationships
For inner demons that no one can see

It’s a surrender of sorts to silent wars
With no gap between dreams or living hell
There is least hope of heal or timeliness
Yet demands the perseverance of a rock
Testing the fortitude even of the brave
Waiting in eternity for the august return

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