All the things I say

"All the things I say..." my lingering part sentence left in notes the endings to unwritten poems never to be known I'm on the hook yet unanalysed with no results in forever placed there by myself left to rot unless I of course lift the melancholy and go on a jolly abroad with friends thereby completely forgetting the whole thing everyone will laugh at my jokes for 3 days I'll dance not caring who is watching drinks pints that juxtapose nicely with my otherwise hopefully elegant presentation and return home too tired for the Monday that follows whereby my inner melancholy will again try to rear up and I can hopefully offset it with something else one day I hope to store the affirmation I get and ignore the inner critic and be a poet who writes about bees instead exclusively bees possibly a bit of what would a bee think but definitely not a melancholy bee are bees melancholy? nope, they are delighted by their own knees