Melancholy

A bleak weary blanket quite invisible, wraps around my heart, my doctor cannot pry it away, for words have little effect, the emotions are stained to the skin, like a tattoo that cannot be erased because it is buried too deeply, and you cannot take it away, for it is at the heart, words are a poor form of communication when the swirls and tornados are going to a peak, black tornadoes, horrid sun too bright and the greatest of what is deemed happiness sullies me, how pointless, how tragic the games as one twist after another goes about, my plastic smile given to you.