Enticing Melpomene (By Buford)

Inspired by the poem “Sweet Erato” By Raeen)

He the sot, in darkened ally,
Lie in rags o’er his shoulders.

Empty of fire, yet full of hope;
flask in hand, quivering in the early morning.

She the Muse, Melpomene crept into the rabble.
Revealed in cold contempt,
to his red and stinging eyes.

The sot in sudden fury,
bares his yellow teeth.
His anger guided by
self imposed tragedy.

“Speak ye not of woes , of loss.
Pour your flask onto the stones.
Cleanse your soul of lingering hate,
for tragedy visits you.”

She spoke in chanting tones,
and he lie before her.
Stretched hands to feet,
skin cold and clammy.

Now her hands upon his chest,
she chants her haunting song.

Through his quickening breaths
and fluttering eyes.

she leans down to his ear
“I take from you your pain and addiction,
to inspire from your tragedy.
So quit this life and all of its ravages.”

As tragedy lived
and death descended,
the Muse wondered
into the early morning streets.

The sot, lie dead, cold, and smiling
o’er streets of rot, filth, and tragedy.