Depression torments his dimming soul,
Dousing the faint flame within…
Mutely meeting another day,
Painfully, he musters an artificial grin.
Finding no joy in the bright blue sky,
Simply too numb to care…
Going through motions in somber dismay,
Would anyone notice if he wasn’t there?
Searching for solace in earthly form,
Desolation entwines his shell…
Never quite finding his spirit’s desire,
Absence of God makes his life Hell.
Covering faded scars of suicide failure
With long sleeve shirts…
Nothing sounds quite as peaceful to him
Than spending eternity covered in dirt.
Thinking only to end his hidden pain,
Loved ones not crossing his mind…
Blasé was he with his deliberate demise,
Bequeathing darkest despair into their lives.
©Leatherman 2014
Depression is real and I believe the further we are from God, the more likely we are to follow a path of self destruction. B.L.
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