melancholia

what is this melancholy?
in the land of the prosperous,
where the nobles were meant to live merrily,
there is none but one who tries to be.

living within those who live a hectic lifestyle of enjoying happiness,
one leads the lifestyle of chasing it.
hoping to live in the happily ever after,
but always shrouded with "i'm sure it'll be later."

a day, a month, a year.
milestone after another,
the one holds dear,
while thinking... what really matters?

is that who i see?
one who lives with another;
or one who lives for another?
cause i fear to find nothing more than the mere shadow of the yesteryears.

or maybe, it's just a projection of what was held dear.