In bed with depression; I think I fell in love with my sorrows.
It’s about time the Angel of Death collected the time I borrowed.
The devil served me well, it’s a shame my faith didn’t follow…
Father forgive me for my sins, I pray you save my soul tomorrow.
But tomorrow never comes, will I ever be free?
I’m beginning to lose sleep, eternity is my prison.

I can sense the end drawing nearer,
I’m hoping this painting of my life gets clearer.
I’m so used to the rainy days, I prepare for grey clouds.
I don’t have 20-20 vision but my third eye can see whether the weather will be better.
The calm before the storm…
It’s time to wear my crown of thorns.

I wrote this for the sinners, the depressed and those living in fear
The suicidal kids and the parents not prepared for the next year
It’s a shame these words will fall on deaf ears.
For those of you who read this, embrace your peers;
Accept their flaws, their mistakes, their fears.

My words, my story, my form and my thoughts,
The abstract architecture of my soul is now yours.
All I ask is for you, the noble philosophers,
To remember the tales of this false poet.

False Poet