Dismal Plea

Morose and dismal views of all my life
Are plaguing me and haunting me today.
They come and prod me cruelly every night,
Until this lunacy of mind makes way.
My purpose doesn’t want to show its face,
And hides itself until I want to die…
But right when death is going to take place,
The thunder wakes me up and says, “Don’t cry.”
I wish that thunder crash could dry my tears,
For I am damp already with that act
Because when I am faced with all these fears,
My spirit finds just one way to react.

Show me if my effort’s not in vain,

And kill me if it is, I ask again.