little boy,
go on,
say hi.
this is where
you are to die
.
it's fate
or destiny
everything that matters,
make believe
it's whatever
you can see
.
fall down
this rabbit hole
see stories
which were once untold
.
our town
it's painted with acrylic
mendacity and the
only way out is as a stiff
(death. your only exit strategy)
.
but little boy
you knew that,
you knew that
the melancholy feeling
would never fall flat
.
welcome to the graveyard
this is where hope comes to die
(how atrabilious says the lord of the underworld to his son)
a hundred word poem based off the word atrabilious. it's a mid seventeenth century word to describe one affected by the black bile, a concept to describe the feeling of melancholy. it can mean melancholy or ill-tempered. i wrote this a while back when i first heard the word and all i could think of was nico and the way he never quite fit in with any of the demigods. the way he isolated himself and how he was tethered to a life he didn't necessarily want.
idk though, sometimes something prompts me to write, and when the muse comes a calling, i best pick up the phone.