(no subject)
A muse, a muse, oh, you men, call to you a muse;
poets, writers, singers, and all who make the plea--
if knows your work despair, that blue and black of bruise...
Hello Father, sister, siblings, and mortals... some mortals who I recognise, whose lives my words have touched, and many, many more that are foreign to me.
I am Melpomene, one of the Nine. You may have heard my name, upon the wind, in the sigh of a dying man. I sing, and though my songs are often of a happy tune, beware: tragedy is my reign. I bring sorrow, grief, and sweet, sweet melancholy.
Come to me with empty hearts, and I shall heavy them.
If your voice is in your throat, and your tears flow free,
your words the world paints in dark and somber hues,
then you've caught the song of the sad Melpomene.
poets, writers, singers, and all who make the plea--
if knows your work despair, that blue and black of bruise...
Hello Father, sister, siblings, and mortals... some mortals who I recognise, whose lives my words have touched, and many, many more that are foreign to me.
I am Melpomene, one of the Nine. You may have heard my name, upon the wind, in the sigh of a dying man. I sing, and though my songs are often of a happy tune, beware: tragedy is my reign. I bring sorrow, grief, and sweet, sweet melancholy.
Come to me with empty hearts, and I shall heavy them.
If your voice is in your throat, and your tears flow free,
your words the world paints in dark and somber hues,
then you've caught the song of the sad Melpomene.