Sunday Hope

How the hell can anyone remain even remotely Kind,

When the evil of the world within the day to day grind,

Has me completely and utterly out of my fuckin mind.

Happiness with my self let alone in a companion I prevent myself to find,

How the fuck have I allowed myself a dim flicker when not long ago I seemed to have shined,

I have to remove myself run and behind shelter allow an internal unwind,

This is a product of my own actions and choices my depression foolishly self assigned,

If the ability to do over were present I may have been able to have saved a few friends but there is no rewind,

To the top of the unreliable misguided and misunderstood friend list spot #1 I rapidly climbed,

Wonder if the reaper has my casket sanded and primed,

I should have shut the fuck up and listened no irrational emotion uttered merely mimed, 

My best song played every fuckin musical note has now been broken and blackened by a shameful sin brine,

I fear it's not a solo thought to wonder whether or not within my future I can be referred to as fine,

But even at the coldest depths of my deranged self loathed pity's mine,

Somehow in the midnight matted blackness although the most minuscule glimmer of a light...I still observed one last hopeful sign.