When all the world screams contempt, how am I to be content?
When sorrow, heartbreak, and lies are all the sights that meet my eyes,
And starvation, cruelty, desperation, are all the things that fill creation?
When the sun stays not long for fear of the smog,
And the stars dare not to shine.
How can I find delight in the universe of lies?
The world is not enough!
YOU ARE READING
Melancholia
Poetry"Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility." - William Wordsworth
