Not how I planned,
Nor what I hoped.
The muse sits amused
While I try to cope.
Cries turn to screams,
Sadness to rage,
There’s no getting back
What’s flown the cage.
Not within my grasp,
That ship has sailed
Beyond the chasm.
Hope is impaled.
Time now to close,
Resigning tonight,
The terror is loose
And ever my plight
-
Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: July 11th, 2017 21:31
- Comment from author about the poem: Melancholy is a demon that is unmotivated to leave, so much so that even the inner rage can't move it.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 60
Offline)
Comments1
Finding the key to caging and releasing that demon at will are one of life's truest endeavors. I hope you find inspiration here sir, as I have in this poem. Good job.
Thank you! I have indeed found inspiration!
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