Poetry of the Soul

Melpomene's Wish

If a scene escape from one's memory,

Sentiment from the heart will protrude,

They said it would,

But none of it did,

It was my feet that returned my lost sceneries,

Where our strings first collided,

Unwanted feelings emerged from my gut

"What is it again?"

Oh, probably nostalgia.

I'm reminded again

On how there is only one genre

That piques my interest

A double-sided drama.

Wherein joy and pain are expressed

Neither separated nor distinguished

Similar to the theatre,

We called "home" once

While you were the comedy

That painted a smile

On my phlegmatic character,

No one can graze upon,

I was distant,

Yet, you're always near

I was cold,

Yet, your warmth never falter

You probably didn't know

Whenever I see my reflection,

On your golden brown irises,

I saw the sun kisses the moon,

Coincidentally,

I see my demons too

Whispering words of uncertainty,

"I wasn't your figure of beauty.

Neither a fairy

Nor a sky so starry",

I guess

If you were the comedy,

I'm the painful tragedy

Living in an illusion

Of anguish and insanity

I wished I would rather sing a song

And enchant one's beating hearts

Or dance,

And move one's wary minds

But wishes don't come true, do they?

But then, I will,

As the ending comes near,

I won't wish for a happy ending.

Not because we're not in a fairytale,

But because endings will always vanish

In oblivion, unforeseen...

I won't remember, nor feel after

Only the slumber awaits,

After the curtain call fades

And to sleep eternally would forget my tragedy

And thus,

I would be free from the sorrow

Of my own words and poetry