Sorrowful Tunes

I'm not sure it's what i'd choose,
My room's a mess, it always is,
It'll take another to remedy this,
I've little to gain, too much to lose,
I'd gladly take her home tonight,
The evening would be something i'd
Keep forever in the back of my mind,
The morning would be a ghastly sight,

A mess of words, awkward glances,
The fruit of months of advances,
My train of thought jumps and prances,
Tangled pride and depression skillfully dances,
Of all the otherwordly chances
I'd get, this one cleanly lances
Through my ear and all stone-set stances,
Shatter in the awkward glances.

If you leave this room right now,
You'll salvage pride and soften your wounds,
But stay and i'll sing you sorrowful tunes,
The twisted story of how,
Everything became more than less,
Things that weren't made things that were,
How right and wrong became a blur,
How life seems to be nothing but a test,

And how red became blue and blue became black,
How the sun turned to clouds and the clouds turned to rain,
How pride turned to anger and anger to shame,
How love turned to nothing and the nothing attacked

But most of all, stay and you'll discover,
That black can be red, and clouds can stay whole,
Pride and love stay despite the toll,
And oddly enough, stray out of the cover,
And into the rain, accept Neptune's prong,
And when you're soaked completely through,
Hit the sky back with it's own deluge,
Things may not seem right, but they're no longer wrong.

© Saxon Drury-Godden, Dec 05.