A Lesser Gift

Looking for sympathy I falter to a golden ruse
An era of melancholy besets my heart
Playing with shadows always suited my palette
Darker conformities seek pleasure in my embrace
Suicide opted in lieu of chaos
Vermillion but a gift I offer the sun
Bleeding in my disconnect I paint parchments in fugue
Broken I prod at forsaken truths and pull the skies southward in futility
A better damnation to pass this wretch over
And the gift of life wasted in the womb of mother
The after birth a blessed rite