I wish I could sleep,
do anything but think,
About all the ways this year
Is already at the brink,
We could sink.

But we could also
swim or fly or
parachute down a mountainside.
I do not care to weigh,
all the times I cried.

And I tried,
To feel all the pain
that lives inside,
it resides so close,
to all the important parts,
of me.

And I can see,
looking through looking glass,
I cannot live stuck
in the past,
Alas.

This too shall pass!
Pass on to that
Good ship Misery,
and with a little wizardy,
and a bleeding liturgy,
our pain, shall too,
Be history.