Poem for Sunday: Pick Yourself Up

by Henry Ling

Alone, abandoned, depressed, and stuck in a pit with no way out.

The iridescent light seems to fade into a dark void, without a doubt.

The work load seems like an ever growing mountain…

No summit… little reward… a dying fountain

You climb up through your emotion,

Without hope, only psychological erosion.

People laugh and smile, even in the rain,

Yet your lips sag down with the weight of your pain.

 “Is worth it”, “Must I go on”, “What if I collapse or drop dead”,

These thoughts whirl like black birds around your head. 

But you mustn’t give in,

Being depressed is not a sin.

We may live and die,

But we must always fight, try to soar high.

Some days we will be reduced to tears

But that won’t stop us despite our fears.

A penny earned is a penny saved,

Stop our sadness from making us enslaved.

It is worth it, we must go on, and don’t end up dead,

Please, make your dreams widespread.

If you are broken, alone and about to close up,

Always pick yourself up…