Sometimes, I fear my depression will win
But then I pick up the pen
And all my problems disperse
I'm writing scriptures,
You'd think the lines
Were birthed in a church
But I'm cursed
I'm not sure if those words have worth
And that's a scary confession
But this isn't a verse
It's a frickin' therapy session
I'm finally learning my lesson
I'm finally calling for help
This is probably the most vulnerable
That I've ever felt.
Searching for a sign
We just play the cards that we're dealt
And yeah, I know that there are times
You wish you were someone else
But you see, inside my mind,
I think you're perfect as yourself
Enrichment of the soul
Is the highest form of wealth
So rest now, my love
All that stress is bad for your health
I performed this piece on social media a few months ago. I wasn't sure if I still liked it, but I thought I'd share it with you all in the HP community.
"Rest now" can be viewed as a conversation between a woeful person (the author) and their console (whether that be a friend, a therapist, the page, or themselves) that discusses the inner anxieties of someone who's putting themselves out there [in their career, or whatever it may be] for the first time.
The counselor reminds the author that they are exactly who they are meant to be and need not stress about anything.