Melancholy, a figure draped in shadows,
A specter of sorrow, haunting the soul.
With a countenance of muted hues,
And eyes, like storm clouds, brooding and cold.

She walks with a heavy step, burdened and weary,
Silent footsteps echoing through corridors of despair.
Her touch, a gentle chill upon the skin,
Leaving behind a lingering sense of unrest in the air.

In her presence, the world turns sepia,
Colors fade, and laughter loses its charm.
For she is the mistress of melancholy,
And her touch leaves hearts heavy, souls disarmed.

She whispers in the ear of the sleepless,
Caressing their thoughts with her bittersweet song.
Her words, like ethereal tendrils, seep into the mind,
Weaving tales of regret and the longing for what's past gone.

But Melancholy is not a cruel mistress,
Rather, a companion to those who feel deeply.
She understands the depths of human emotion,
And offers solace to those who embrace her tenderly.

Her tears, like raindrops, fall upon the earth,
Nourishing the roots of the poet's soul.
For it is in the depths of her embrace,
That the artist finds inspiration, his creative goal.

So let us not shy away from this somber presence,
But invite her in, with open arms and heart.
For in the darkest depths of desolation,
We discover the beauty in life's intricate art.

Melancholy, as a person, dances in the moonlight,
Her movements graceful, though tinged with sorrow's grace.
In her depths, we find solace and introspection,
And learn to navigate life's intricate maze.

So let us embrace her, this melancholic muse,
And in her welcome arms, find solace and release.
For in the depths of her quiet sadness,
We may find the peace our restless souls seek.

© 𝓡.𝓕𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓼 𝓟𝓸𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬 𝓢𝓸𝓾𝓵