Battering wind and rain outside,
They said sunny today, they must’ve lied
Inside, in here, with me and mine,
It’s blistering hot with streaming sunshine.
That’s for today, on a high, exalted.
Yesterday I felt assaulted.
Battered and bruised but never broken.
You’re Damaged are the words misspoken.
Both eyes are open instead of one.
I have my own light, no desire for sun.
I’ll open my door and put out the dark fire,
I welcome you all in to relax and admire,
My new me and my gift to myself,
I’ve taken my happiness down from off my shelf.
I’m holding it now, small and precious.
It’s light and love will refresh us.
Come sit by me, come hold my hand,
Smile with me and the depression be ******.

Is it sadness or depression?
Is it rational worry or anxiety?
Do you know the difference?
Do I know the difference?
Is it a choice?
Then choose.

Trying not to think so much,
To not break the rules and such,
Trying to fit my square in little round holes,
Maybe too late to save our souls.
Trying & trying, always trying,
Keeps me busy but always sighing.
Enigmatic parlance for the used and abused,
Mother’s milk for the lost and confused.
Pity and empathy are opposite things.
Misery and helplessness always brings
The wrong ones, the unbroken and the unhealed and the ******
The unhappy, the sick and those body-slammed.
One more battle and one more fight,
Eventually I’ll tell myself I’m alright.

I find beauty in many places,
Seldom in others’ faces.

What cost these dark days?
What cost these lamenting episodes?
What cost the hours worrying and waiting?
What cost the time spent under covers?

What value the sun?
What value family?
What value in a friend?
What value in love?

Sunshine is free.
Time is relative.
Friends are priceless.
The right Love is eternal.

I feel the crush of whimsical loss,
A torrent of torment flays my soul,
The gravity of attachment pains my hands
Walking through fire-swept brush, I feel nothing.
My heart feels it all, every lance, every sin.
Keep the clown smiling within,
The empathetic attach to my broken frail corpse.
High on a cloud wishing I was still of substance,
Wishing someone had just asked me,
To just accept my malady of the mind,
As a quirk and not the sum of me.

I dreamed of fire, then of ice.
I dreamed the dull blade hack and slice.
I saw a Mother’s face, tears overspilling.
Pleading for heart’s peace, never stilling.
I saw a Father’s disapproval, seemed uncaring.
I know he feels much more, he’s just not sharing.
Heads and hearts are full of strife,
This one’s suffering is not by knife.
Sons' and daughters' lives in full flow,
The dead passed on and rest below.
Old age and pain abated by the joy
Of grandkids at play, new girls and boys.
Suffering is real, understanding is relative,
Thought and memory are the only derivative.
No end in sight, but this life’s not long,
Neither is it only for the strong.
So if you’re feeling weak and tired,
Sit by me, I’ve lit the fire.