Oh! a cry so plain it
Scarcely leaves our lips.
We begin plotting lines
To sad refrain. Excise
All rights to light and life,
Still,
Quietly laying bare our
Failed plans, our lost paths;
Our mortal enemy, our
Only friend. She who
Dances outside the realm
Of our gaze, who plays
Silent melodies on broken
Keys, songs we know but are
Disallowed to sing.
She cares not
For lament or plea, she
Who fuels our fire;
She, misery.
Jul 9, 2011
Jul 9, 2011 at 4:20 PM UTC
Oh! a cry so plain it
Scarcely leaves our lips.
We begin plotting lines
To sad refrain. Excise
All rights to light and life,
Still,
Quietly laying bare our
Failed plans, our lost paths;
Our mortal enemy, our
Only friend. She who
Dances outside the realm
Of our gaze, who plays
Silent melodies on broken
Keys, songs we know but are
Disallowed to sing.
She cares not
For lament or plea, she
Who fuels our fire;
She, misery.
Sadness is often our greatest ally, our most potent emotional touchstone, and tonight I decided to rejoice for sheer misery.
