We the Melancholy

We the melancholy,
Are restless and silent.
There is a rainy haze in every reflection.

We the melancholy,
Are tired and cold.
The shivers of age creep up our spines.

We the melancholy,
Lack stimulation.
An awful silence hums in our ears.

We the melancholy,
Are intelligent and deprived.
No challenges rise to meet us.

We the melancholy,
Know its transience,
And wait with forceful patience.

For we wish it to pass,
With an incomplete urge.