Melancholist~

Walked through the wooden frame
The air smelled new furnished wood,
New chapter of the life she was to commence
In this quiet suburban neighbourhood.

Made it cozy with the warm fire
Placed her daydreams on its new-born shelves
Pushed the curtains out, let the sun dribble in
But then again she stayed out till twelves.

Hours of expatiation,
From the sunrise till it sets.
Carrying all the obscure pessimisms,
Her mind enters debates.
And just like clockwork, the door shuts,
Her sighs echoes the room
Pulling here head up with half-moon eyes
She saw her uninvited heirloom.

All the sadness she had heard, all the losses others buried,
All the pasts she had seen, she sheltered them in her cemetery.
But now they haunt her in her sleep,
They give her nightmares in broad daylight,
She feels now she lifts a rift of sorrows
A camaraderie leading to a split spinal rite.

And so is how it wakes and screams a roundabout
So is how it is etched in the light and in the sound.

Hence static becomes my mind when it is to defenestrate
On the guilt I hold on to,
As life had always strolled unlabored on me
Than it has lashed on you.

So I might never understand the status, the solemnity of your fable,
But I'll carry the guilt of how I never ate what was never served on my table.