It’s resigned for the low, the broken hearted
For poor souls mourning the recently departed
It’s not for you, with your house, dog and wife
With your millions tucked up, your life’s without strife.
How dare you feel down, feel utter despair?
With a girlfriend on each arm and friends always there?
You have a high fly career that reaches no bounds,
And enough money to stretch to everyone’s rounds.
So why do you complain, tear up in night?
You’re not alone, homeless or in a pitiful plight?
I may have riches, a job and wife
But my pain and suffering is still very rife.
I’m plagued with lingering and constant doubts
Every interaction with my wife involves just shouts.
Our marriage is a sham and my flings are fleeting
I work in an office where I’m abused in every meeting.
My friends are just bees following the honey
I doubt they’d be there if I ran out of money.
Each night I cry myself to sleep,
Each morning I contemplate to leap
Off the balcony of my fancy penthouse flat,
To free myself from these lonely chains
From this destructive poison that clouds my brain.
On paper, I seem to have it all
But in reality I feel I’m scaling a prison wall.
I’m punished for a crime I didn’t commit,
Brown beaten for not valuing any of it.
But the truth is that depression chooses you
Irrespective if you have a mansion or two.
Wealth doesn’t plug this gaping black hole,
Money doesn’t cleanse a broken soul.
Love alone could help me win this internal fight
It’s just a shame that in my perfect life, this was God’s oversight.