The hand of grief brushed my shoulder,
And fell down my back, tracing my spine.
Sadness whispers sweet nothings into my ear
As I sit, as I walk, as I sleep.
Melancholy pulls me close,
Wrapping me in its bittersweet embrace.
Misery presses its ice-cold lips against my forehead,
And runs its fingers through my hair
Despair lies next to me at night,
I feel its breath on my neck.
What I wouldn’t give to feel the embrace of joy,
To hear the voice of happiness,
To hold the hand of bliss.
But contentment is always out of reach,
Destined to be nothing other than a dream.
Though I’d rather feel the embrace of despair,
Than to feel the emptiness of feeling nothing.
