Not poetry

A thickening mist of melancholy,

Blurs my vision,

An army of deafening cacophony

Subdue my reasons,

I dwindle back as a canon ball hits me

Harder than ever, it defeats me,

The notes don’t sound right,

None of the scales fit,

Words don’t fall into place,

Someone’s bribing solace.

Someone’s trying to snatch away

All the colours of the day,

Someone’s fantasizing darkness,

He is welcoming mess,

Well, what can I do to him?

What can I say?

Sitting up tonight, I write not poems

But lament over this pitiful disarray.