Dressed in black, like a mysterious stranger. But often in disguise, in every other colour. She approaches us, like a friendly pest, Undeniable, without leaving us a choice. She lends us her hands, like an unpeaceful treaty And as we hold it, optionless, we are no longer found. . In distress and pain, we seek her, like a maniac, And yet we won't find her face in any of those crowds. For she is busy, luring and embracing the weak, Those demented souls, that suffer in silence. She being the lovely beast, hides when we seek Yet brings her wrath upon us, when we hide from her.
Like a harlot she is, she makes us crave for her, Our pleas and laments, melody to her heart. While she finds happiness, in the sight of our pain, In the days, we pray to be rescued from the brutalities, From the pain and the burdens of broken heart, She denies us the pleasure, and leaves us wanting.