This month’s melancholy, I put down to you.
Entwined density, tangling through me anew.
This months misery I put down to you.
Within arms length, my conscience can’t approve.
This months mayhem, structured by you.
Causing chaos to simmer, only leaves me to fume.

This month’s melancholy, I put down to you.
Etwined density, tangling through me anew,
sacrificing all tender notions of what I once knew.
Reliving adoration, between a fine line of being used.



Overly used.



Much too confused…



This months melancholy, I put down to you.



© Aish