Melancholy

I have been told that during the night,
all the monsters come out to roam, and so
does Melancholy, that old witch; her cane
dragging across the sleepy tarmac.
And though the day had been so radiant and gay,
now it hides its radiance in the shadows
of Melancholy’s great strides.
Whence comes this strange witch, and when
does it go? Must I forever dwell
in these mystic lanes; or will I
one day escape
to a land where monsters do not exist.

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