Darkness is here again
She wants my heart so she says
For it is useless and without want
What do you need it for my young sweetheart?
Give it to me for eternity
And I shall see you have immortality
Hand it over sweet and gently
Without a sound I’ll leave you quietly
But if I don’t have a heart
How is my blood supposed to be pump’d
Without that which we call flesh in a bold pink lump
Wouldn’t I die much faster in time
Will I still be human without that lump of flesh
Could I still eat drink and make merry
Most important of all love and be loved
A dance with my fairy
It really sounds good to hand over to you
For you look all nice, prim and proper
But you smell all wrong and sour
Much like what they call the Rafflesia flower
I still think I should keep my heart
Perhaps I’ll give it away some other time
But definitely not to you dark maiden
Who is not even worth a dime
How wonderful that these little scribbly and scrawly words seem to dance before your eyes when you have much work to do, much deadlines to complete and with that, a splitting headache to boot.
Muse, my dear muse, stop making so much noise up there. My world is splitting into two if you are going to continue at that rate.
Melancholic moods are much harder to come by now.
And I’m not even speaking in coherent sentences. I’m much confused.