Melancholy Monster

There’s nothing quite like

Melancholy,

To take the recovery

Out of anyone.

There’s that cold, familiar room,

Of self doubt,

Creeping from the darkened closet.

I lay in agony again,

I loose all trust,

In everyone,

Even the only ones

Who’ve ever always been here,

My imaginary friends

Say your husband hates me,

And you probably do too.

Why not? she says,

Everyone else does.

Oh there’s that Self Pity,

Disqusting ol’ friend,

You fuckin’ol Biddy.

You ain’t my friend,

You’re my enemy.

Who

Is

You?

Is me?

Even in my own mind,

The stranger I fear is near,

Lurking behind every curtain,

Every bush, every door,

I’m certain I have to look, A

At the horror,

And I there i look to see staring,

That the monster in the reflection,

Is me.