o melancholy disposition, you remain faithful beneath the rises and falls of life. you tell the same lies you always did, clothed in varying garb. you dim the lights and hover like a cloud, as always.

enemy or friend, i have no choice but to choose: will i fight you? will i win?
how you remain!

in your presence i have felt things deeply,
felt that i existed,
felt.
with your muses, i have written, sung, and played.

o melancholy, how i am ashamed to think of life as dull without you!
perhaps, my fear unfounded, you indeed shall never leave.
o disposition, are you--are you, in fact--me?