Alone in sorrow I journey
Striding painfully in snail pace
Lost in the desert of loneliness.
Seductively Melancholy called
She sang songs of misery
The tales of my life she tells
Before my eyes she dramatised
In a dance drama she presented
The uncensored premier movie
The movie of my beingness.

With attention so great I watched.
I listened to her foretelling my story
Did she edit it?
What a great narrator.
What a great script writer
Like a genius she aligned the scenes
Wistful thought she caused my heart
For the glorious pass that's past

My emptiness before me she puts
My losses she clearly pointed out
The truth she caused me to see
But a twisted truth it is

She got my attention and went for the kill
The flute of death she plays.
She enchanted me into it rhythm
It mesmerized my beingness.

Death appear dancing with flare
To me they came together dancing
They smiled at me saying,
"Come with us and be free.
What is spoil is ruined.
That which has decayed
Cannot be preserved
Your life cannot be salvaged.
The game is over.
Come with us and be happy."

The feeble soul embraces it
The twisted truth appeals to it.
Their show of concern becomes a comfort.
A shoulder and comfort it needed.
A shoulder no one gave.
A comfort none spared.
Except for melancholy and death.

Let's be kind to those who are passing through hard times. To those who are traumatise and those who feel it's over in life. Let's reach out to them before Melancholy and death does.

By Okon Ukeme Cornelius Dominic