Muse of Tragedy

Do you hear that?

Do you hear that most sorrowful,

Most entrapping melody?

It’s the cries of Melpomene.

She sounds serene,

as though her doom isn’t strangled on her head.

She sings muses clothed with gloom,

And it sounds, to the faintest of hearts,

Like exquisite glass upon which the water blades crash.

She could always arouse

A maddening flame within me.

And it sickens me,

It sickens me to wait for words.

These words that may be apt sometimes, and others, unsatisfyingly ignorant.

Melpomene, oh Melpomene,

You are quite a tragedy.

And I believe I-

I just might be your daughter.

For this low hum under my skin,

And this sweet torment,

Could only be genetic, right?

You are a melancholic beauty,

And I was born

From the fire within you.

I am he madness

You gave birth to.

Unlike the delicacy within,

I have claws for fingers

And an undying fire in my lungs;

And oh Melpomene, oh Melpomene,

You ignite my veins with a fury

Unbeknownst to mankind.

I say again, do you hear that?

Do you hear that most sorrowful, most entrapping melody?

It is she, who raised my fragile being;

She sings those sorrowful muses.