Sorrow of Depressive Healing
Sorrow of Depressive Healing
Stress and suppression, my bittersweet depression
Like grapes on a vine each day I am blessed but
Were grapes on the vine found dead then would lessen
The sorrow for which I seem to be destined
Alone counting dreams from a bed that’s been christened
A coffin and tool from which I’ll be tested
Against hollow faith and against bitter dreams, a battle that’s
Lost will find voice to deem me
Worthy of love or destined by fate to
Fall in an unhallowed place of disgrace
So blithely I walk an uncertain road
Tainted by fear, an emotion I loathe
Her eyes will haunt my evensong dreams; daylight
Fights away the joy that I see
Blessed though I am, this hope from me flees
All I can do is sit and I’ll plea to
The one that I know can truly heal me.