Depressed

A day to die is all we seek;
We, the depressed, lonely and meek.
We crash through each sorrow
Like the brick wall that it is.
Carry forth to the morrow,
Surviving, again and again.

 

Each day is newly gained,

New torments of new pain.

A wonder we keep living on
As unwanted as it must be.

We seek only a near end

To cap off our lives of grief.