Fri. Dec 6th, 2019


Ensuring a camaraderie in all depositions we find ourselves

The Melancholist – By Ora

1 min read

I crave for pain with a mix of pleasure
Not proportionate
More of pain than pleasure

I desire that feeling of hurt
More spice of betrayal
That shock of fear
The gall of bitterness

My twisted fantasy
I’m not hurt but I feel hurt
My humor
I’m not bright but I feel light

I want to fly away from my troubles
I don’t want them
But I’m addicted to them
The worries like ants
Tell me if a time will come
When I feel true happiness for once

I try to choose but it feels like I have no option.
Maybe a gulp of that juice
Or a flank of that roof
Or maybe a dash of
You know what

Are these even worth my troubles?
Let me go see how happy people live
Let me feel how they feel
They have options, so do I
They have worries, so do I

But they lack something I have
The hovering shadow of burden
Whether I shall ever be better I cannot tell
I awfully forebode I shall not.
To remain as I am is impossible;
I must die or better be, it appears to me.

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