Poetry Catharsis

Aberration In Melancholy

I, a mortal with no significance,

A face with no relevance,

A heart with no credence,

A soul with no renascence.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror,

Agony acting as a lever,

Artificial smile as a cover,

Abnormality pushing me lower.

Thy face hath not live,

Thy face hath not live,

The heart does not scream,

The heart does not beam.

When the sun dies,

Thee reveal the heart was long gone,

Lest the devil fawn,

Then maybe a meaning would be born.

The more I try the less is working,

Shine light towards the dark,

Shredded the fresh flesh back,

Pure blood in a sack.

Ask the Saint if he lived,

Need not worry if he believed,

Surely he may deceive,

But I cannot feel relieved.

Until nature destroy its kind,

Until humanity defunds its mind,

Until religions embrace its line,

Until elements combust with fine.

Thy heart will never come,

Thy heart will never go.

For the Aberration,

For the Melancholy,

Could never resist fate.