Melancholy Wings

Spirit bland as black ink Am I a victim of my own melancholic wings? That is? Am I smudged and spreading, That my darling - won't work… Darling all I read is your headlines… Am I a victim of my own melancholic, thinking's? That is smudged and spreading, Across that psychiatrist folded piece of paper. 'O When my heart he asks me What do you see? And I say - I answer I with you - in loves permanence. He answers me too! He says you're the white dove's effervescence But was I the one who was dreaming He says you're the white surround And the in-between too me! 'O doctor is I a victim in this love Just another blank unmarked scored page Of music that never really made a sound One you'd want to hide and cover up? Spirit bland as black ink With those bullets dull ache I have a kite's strings tug of melancholy Like never before Where lightening severs the chord And I'm left smudged and I am gone A migrating bird up into black skies.