Melancholia

                                                                          This battle started the very day I was born, In the time of need, I know the world shall be gone, Took the path not taken, never followed the norm, A sea of lust and desires, toward war I was drawn. Ecstasies unfulfilled, wants, an ever stinging horn, Not a single step closer, so many deaths I have mourned. They all say I do but while and waste ever away, But Victory is near, it may approach any morn. Shattered the walls of my brain, the threat not my brawn, Worked my way miles above the delusionals on the lawn, I have given up all, yet have not a single scorn, This battle started, the very day I was born.

                                                    For a tree's branches to reach heaven,  It's roots must reach hell. The vice of every man must be rid, with devilry and rebel. The ascent up the echelons, must levy upon it a heavy toll, For greatness achieved through sins atrocious, Is not greatness, but gore.