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 Grandeur Of Melancholy

Sorrow Mirrored

I can't be you, none less myself.
But it seems like misery,
come to look at the silver side;
of tragedies cannot see.

What could be; sorrows does this 

And it warps, better, better, best
into something
foreign, alien, I didn't understand.

And like an ancient
echo in the vibrant silver pool,
of other people's bad grooves.

Ages to pick up and
run as far but I trip 
up on your lines,
I get back to me,
who was I, from
others, that see.

And it was as a magic land
of disaster areas.
A paradise always bent,
because it was left in flames.

But a little different than joy,
because sorrow mirrors even
if you
are not sorrowful.

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