Melancholia

He wakes up to another day,
To a decrepit world and in disarray,
As darkness looms,
In hope to brighten up his path,
He tried to reach, but to one deceivious torch,
As he gazes out upon crumbled ruins beneath nebulous sky,
The sound of lightning can be heard,
And precipitation on the window can be seen.

He weeps to another day,
As he fixes his bowtie, in front of a shattered mirror,
He stares into the eyes of the reflection,
And a question he asks, with no intended listener,
"What is wrong with you?"
With little effort, he puts on his age-old mask,
And he is now the impersonation of all that is lovely.


LMX
Monday
28/04/19