Ode to Joy' Of Sadness

Lines of error, red and blue,
marked and lined,
ready to redo.

Another aching paper,
so wildly given flare,
waiting on my desk,
bringing me despair.

The Anvil of agony,
weighing down my years,
brings nothing else,
than red eyes and tears.

When will the lights go out,
when do tail lights fade,
why do grey clouds pass me by...

---forcing life to seem subtle,
and making me just cry.

An Ode to Joy of Sadness,
broken and contorted,
the score is just a token.

Spoken and in revision,
life is nothing more,
than a hedonistic score,
wrapped away in the hilt,
the source of many's Guilt.