October 29, 2010

Melancholia

Sorrow claws at my heart
And I swell up with blood
Waiting to erupt
And every time I think
I am on the mend,
The red seeps through the cloth.
My brown eyes look up
To the sky
Just as blue as it is
But my hands, once in a fist,
The fingers now released,
And I feel the air
Running through them,
And I drift away.