Once again,
Like every year,
November’s here,
November’s here!
And nothing’s good,
And nothing’s right,
The dark devoured
All the light …
My pain is pure,
It is my muse,
I call it my
November blues.
Don’t fight your life,
Just let it go,
If you stop now,
Then you won’t grow,
Your body hurts,
You taste the pain,
Your suffering
Is not in vain …
The pain is pure,
It is your muse,
The cold spreads this
November blues.
And once again,
Like years before,
Remembering,
I long for more.
November ends
And never ends,
Time flies outside,
Inside it stands.
I never win
And never lose,
My limbo is
November blues.
© Alina Posthumous