a doer of nothing,
a bucket of sorrow,
I've abandoned today
and discarded tomorrow

it's a desolate day,
a melancholias month,
i finally decided that
I've had quite enough.

By the vague darkness of crepuscule's foe,
Throned in eventide; Thou art an empress.
Sitting queenly like a calm hiss of ***.
Thine eyes of aurora's hold thine fortress.

Whilst laying there upon the lustrous day,
Is an emperor of dreadful distress.
Owning that place where melancholias lay.
Bestowed upon him a might to oppress.

They're separated by continuum.
Living in the words, they are antonyms.
Coloring the dullness, they are contrast.
And by his destiny they are unmatched.

She's the one he wants but can never have,
And stars above, he wrote: Our tragic love.