To the ends of existence I have followed my muse:
Through the sunken pits and valleys of depression,
To the seldom seen glimpse of a gleeful expression,
Suffering through intolerable amounts of emotional abuse.
Sharing these feelings has drained my crippled soul,
Left to wonder how long these bouts of pain may last
As we sift through remorseful memories of her tragic past,
Until the spirit recovers and once again appears whole.
The days of this cycle can no longer continue
To slave to the demands of our conflicting poles,
Through which the blood of her being slowly flows.
And when this internal torture is someday through,
The sky will warmly embrace this sad, departed being
As we bid farewell to the depressive, the living!
