I Had Melancholy Till I Found Poem by M. A Heathcote

I had melancholy till I found the Lord.
And lost my mind drinking all I could find.
I had melancholy till I joined the horde.

And died like a sheep in a dried-up well.
I had melancholy till I fell in love with you.
Wishing instead I could have gone to hell.

I had melancholy till I intertwined
-With you, and I didn't know what to do
Like a serpent, you vented and stayed primed.

I had melancholy till I fell in love with you.
And yet, I still knew I was on shaky ground
With no real foundations, a place to call home,

I had melancholy, but I didn't care.
Just as long as I could wander like a stray cat.
And come back to you: Darling, less any disrepair.

I had melancholy, but I didn't care.
I was young and full of hope and rage.
Despair was my middle name, my cage.

I had melancholy, but I wasn't anyone's hired gun.
I'd rather hang myself than make some ideal fool rich.
But what can I do? I can't get over the woman before you.

I think I'll light a melancholy candle.
And place it outside on my doorstep.
And sleep forevermore and tiptoe into the night.

And dream of a starry cavalcade
And the love that in your eyes once shone
and never faded away, but sparkled like fresh lemonade.