The red roses now lay
Dead on the ground
The violets have withered away
On the wings of wind,
The love that once was there
Will never be
The girl who I was,
Is lost to,
A ghost I never thought I'll see

The poetry pages
Now lay tattered
and torn on the floor,
The writer's pen is also gone
The ink running inside
his vein has dried,
Somewhere he is lost in his suffering and plight

There is a kind of lost
That is never found
A darkness so profound,
There is no scope for hope
A void so vast,
No sound can get through

The mirror now lays
Broken on the bed,
The broken reflections reflects the brokenness inside her heart
Being so young, she should not
But she already fell in love with the company
Melancholia brings

The dimly lit room,
Absorbs all the light the window lets in,
How much more breaths
Before he blends in,
And becomes one with the darkness
That surrounds him

He is not giving up,
but maybe he will give in,
It is so peaceful once
you hit the rock bottom
You can finally lay in peace
With no one calling out your name
No one calling out your name,
**With no care in the world
You can finally be