The pull of the melancholy
Looking in the mirror. The faces of past staring back.They seem confused,thinking, how did we get here and what is to come. I am confused as you are,I think to myself. The eyes are tired,red and bloodshot. The wear and tear is coming through and it's wearing thin. Tired,exhausted. Looking for an escape where there is none, with the only way forward, to act like nothing happened. Be bigger,stronger,better and get on with it. Isn’t it what dad used to say?There is sadness behind those eyes but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Why?Is it after what happened or something else?Is it the memories or the look into the future that brings this lost soul down. Glorious melancholy,how sweet your taste,just can’t get enough. As if I’m coming up for air after the drowning in the depths of the sea only to go back down being drawn by the colours and life underneath the waves. The voices keep talking to me as I stare at myself. They all think they know everything but it ...