“Return of King Melancholia”
Bleak the blackened gates open
King melancholia rides home
On his dread horse Morose.
The misanthropes are at their old games,
Murdering pheasants in the once mirthful meadows,
Their howls drowning out the coo of the doves.
This bittersweet day
Starless every night
Lightless every day.
The ghouls will play,
Siphoning my well of endless love
How I wished the vampiress
Would have stayed.
For it was her fangs I betrayed.