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Melancholy Mood

More of a reflection than poem, a commentary on mood


Strikes at the heart and oft times will not release me

for days I brood, my world a small focus inside my head

At times no bigger than myself and the world just fades away.

I lock myself away, not literally, just emotionally,

Shut off all my receptors, ignore those that matter, those that care

Lose myself in the unquiet of my mind and float in a

Seething mass of unhelpful feelings.

Dreams and wishes jump at me,

Wants and needs pull at me,

But I can’t do anything about them because I am trapped

My mediocre life drags me down and keeps me pinned.

I fight against it in my own small ways

But I know I will never be free of it.

It eats at me until resentment is all that remains.

Unhappy? Yes, no, I guess, maybe? I don’t know.

Just melancholy for now, alone and thinking

Not always such a good thing for me to do

I think too much, I contemplate and ponder too much

The what if’s and might have been’s, wherefore’s and why nots,

The regrets!

Is it wrong to want so much more, when I already have so much?

When I lose the more will I then be happy?

Am I greedy or selfish to simply feel this is not enough?

Or am I merely broken?

Broken in mind, in spirit, in heart?

Incapable of happiness and real love?

Am I one of the many masses that cling to convention merely because I must?

Or am I the meagre minority who see thru eyes clear and stark,

Realistic in my sight the monogamous need an unnatural state

That I yearn for release that I ache for freedom!

And yet I do not take any of those.

I know I can, if I truly wanted to I could, I know it

But I don’t.

Fear and faithfulness and loyalty keep me trapped

Trapped in the confines of an open prison,

Free to roam but always chained to the post,

The tether invisible but strong, strangling.

Comfortable in a truly uncomfortable way.

So am I broken? Incapable of happiness; of conscience?

Am I so damaged that I lack even the ability to see it for myself?

Do I merely walk with blinders like some nag brow beaten and plodding.

When I yearn to be the thorough-bred, the winner the runner!

I ache.

I want to wail at the moon and lament my life to the night

Lose myself in sweet sorrow and cease to be

To end; to be alone to be free, to sleep the sleep of the charmed

And awaken to carefree light on the morn.

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