Melancholy

It just sweeps across. Most days it is hidden, on other days it refuses to stay put. How does a dark heart feel, stuck behind a farce of a face? Ill-fated, lamenting the lack of fears, reason for tears. For how much longer will the cage hold on? Time will flow away like a dark ebb, far away from any chance of change. The Dark fear will strike one day and leave an ashen face in it's wake.