Melancholic Depression

Black becomes the colour of choice.
Sombre is the tone set in my voice.
Spaced out into the dark, deep abyss,
Thinking of the things I no longer miss.
Silently staring at my own reflection.
Quietly planning my bodily dissection.
The child inside me is on his last drop of existence.
My body is doing whatever it wants without resistance.
I don’t care if my soul has fallen,
This life is just way too sullen.
Smiling wryly from ear to ear,
Watching my dreams go down in tears.
This is my life, my impression,
This is my melancholic depression.


Copyrighted ©2001 by Christopher Gielbert !-- BEGIN OF NO-RIGHT-CLICK SCRIPT ====================================================== -->

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