Oh, joyless drum that beats a saddened song
on this day when I wish to rejoice and love.
Instead I feel unwelcomed; only Melancholia answers my call.
I begin to stand, my hand cuts through the wind as I open the door,
and I realize I hear nothing-It's all in my head
I hear nothing, until a silent voice is heard
saying, "all sad songs are known in a quiet hurt unheard."
I pay no mind, my inability to listen, or to cry.
Who gives thanks to all things given, when all that is given is time?
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Gothic Poetry: A Collection of Dark Poems
PoetryThese are poems that I originally wrote several years ago as a teenager. It reflects a love of all things dark. I have edited & revised them for publication. This is 26 poems from a larger collection (72 poems) I've published to share with anyone th...