The Melancholy

When the melancholy returns,
Like a sick, sad old man,
Don’t be gentle.

Berate the old man.
Tell the pathetic piece of shit he is not long for this world.
As he dies, the Earth breathes.

When the melancholy returns,
Like a beaten, dying dog,
Kick it.
Don’t let it convince u it’s pain is worth it,
Euthanize the poor beast.

When the melancholy returns,
Like the black plague,
Don’t explain it.
Let it be the sacred curse upon humanity that mystifies and condemns.

When the melancholy returns,
Like a shadow cast in the rain,
Don’t admire it.
Let it be ugly, incurable, let it be a lepper.

When the melancholy returns,
Like the shingles,
Of old age,
Let it be disfiguring,
Don’t look at the beauty.
It is not aesthetic.

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