This is the second poem I have written in my life, I composed this approximately a year ago and have never let anyone read it. It was based on a period of time in which I was extremely depressed and lonely and this friend of mine was very supportive.
Things have happened in the past and I am no longer friendly with this person and when I found this poem it made me question what I would do if I ever fell into depression's clutches again?
It is very simple but it has a year and a halfs worth of frustration inside it.Enjoy. Salaam!
Things have happened in the past and I am no longer friendly with this person and when I found this poem it made me question what I would do if I ever fell into depression's clutches again?
It is very simple but it has a year and a halfs worth of frustration inside it.Enjoy. Salaam!
Sitting back in misery’s remission,
Seeing nothing but depression’s bleak vision.
Riding on the chilly wind, through the window ajar,
A voice sweet toned as light, billowing in from afar,
The sound so reviving, start happiness thriving,
The notes as soft and radiant as angel fur,
Why cannot everyone be a little more like her?
Cringing against decension,
Threatening to hurl myself into another sombre session,
The ringing phone, the utter of my name,
Blows off misery's shield, empowered by her caring flame.
I blurr to the receiver, aching to hear her,
Her voice like a knell with the softest whir,
All who bystand aspire to be more like her,
Her vibrant interruption, caused the much craved disruption,
To break the monotonous low,
The seeds of my mirth her voice had sown, I and the the gusts had known,
I would never be alone.
Lyrical words spun toward the smile I long last did join,
A fearsome army, engaged sadness of all forms,
Callapsed the walls of tears, instantly erased all my fears,
When I know nothing but poor,
Onlookers gaze and ponder on; how to be a little more like her?
Seeing nothing but depression’s bleak vision.
Riding on the chilly wind, through the window ajar,
A voice sweet toned as light, billowing in from afar,
The sound so reviving, start happiness thriving,
The notes as soft and radiant as angel fur,
Why cannot everyone be a little more like her?
Cringing against decension,
Threatening to hurl myself into another sombre session,
The ringing phone, the utter of my name,
Blows off misery's shield, empowered by her caring flame.
I blurr to the receiver, aching to hear her,
Her voice like a knell with the softest whir,
All who bystand aspire to be more like her,
Her vibrant interruption, caused the much craved disruption,
To break the monotonous low,
The seeds of my mirth her voice had sown, I and the the gusts had known,
I would never be alone.
Lyrical words spun toward the smile I long last did join,
A fearsome army, engaged sadness of all forms,
Callapsed the walls of tears, instantly erased all my fears,
When I know nothing but poor,
Onlookers gaze and ponder on; how to be a little more like her?
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