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