Melancholy mixed with misanthropy,
A lethal combination downed
Like opiates and alcohol;
I convulse violently inside.
The sadness numbs my senses,
Causing me to ignore the blows
That are injurious to me,
Like the striking of a viper.
Comparisons to another,
Do you not know me,
Do you think I am that?
The day's bitter end awaits.
The apathy spreads rampant,
Masking the animus I contain,
Hiding the bête noir from me,
Until all I see is my own reflection.
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: March 12th, 2017 00:39
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
- Users favorite of this poem: niallprideaux
Offline)
Comments3
Good write😊
Thank you!
Good write. We all wear masks for different occasons.
Thanks! Indeed we do!
Seems more than bête noir. C'est dommage. Nicely done.
Merci beaucoup, bon monsieur!
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