A song comes to mind, a verse beautiful yet terse,
with it the crying shame an Old House, a Dying Pet and a Torrid Love Affair,
The days I spent locked up in my room, the days of depression and longing,
A time most forgetful yet inevitable.
More than most, I felt the desolation of a life without purpose,
More than most, I felt the loneliness of company.
A brief spell of illness, vacant heart and the incessant noise of boredom,
I hoped they were the makings of an impulsive act of freedom.
The mirror in my room stood draped and hidden,
I feared my broken life and contemplated reset,
If only we could be allowed to fix ourselves, our pasts, our mistakes,
If only we could be allowed to love the silence and understand regret.
That there was more to a dreary life was no comfort,
For I feared not knowing if it was a harbinger of something better or worse.
Ever so often, I would venture out into the world in alarm,
Expecting to find the dream I wished for,
Expecting to understand the mortal perspective.
Memories of misery are intermittent and misleading,
A familiarity with melancholy is a fractured narrative.
Duping ourselves with hope that we are more, that we are alive and the pain will end,
Such a faux pas of human intellect, the irony of our dilettante existence.
As I screamed into my pillow every night, I thought of rescue,
To be saved by a creature of sun and rain, an unlikely baptism.
Sometimes I smiled, sometimes I cried, at the prospect most elusive,
Sometimes, I feared the creature of sun and rain.
The rhapsody continues, though jaded and faint,
Haunting my joys and miseries alike, ever so real,
For once you know life’s futility, you never go back.
Yet somewhere does lurk the creature of sun and rain,
The one I search within me,
The creature I hope hasn’t left with my Misery Train.