Sober thoughts crowd my mind
Happiness I cannot find
Gloomy weather, gloomy mind
Black bile, one of the archaic humours
Rhyming aptly with tumours
Cancerous thoughts within my mind
Pensively I look for salvation
Maybe a cheery salutation
But my melancholic mind keeps me as a brooder
I vent my spleen, searching for the vaccine
Annoyance acting as a screen for the truth
That all I want to do is scream and scream and scream.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 11:20 PM UTC
Sober thoughts crowd my mind
Happiness I cannot find
Gloomy weather, gloomy mind
Black bile, one of the archaic humours
Rhyming aptly with tumours
Cancerous thoughts within my mind
Pensively I look for salvation
Maybe a cheery salutation
But my melancholic mind keeps me as a brooder
I vent my spleen, searching for the vaccine
Annoyance acting as a screen for the truth
That all I want to do is scream and scream and scream.
© JLB
08/01/2015
03:58 GMT
Request permission to use this poem