Unpalatable Dregs
Depression directs dying dreams
to the deepest depths of your heart.
And mute echoes of silent screams
threaten to tear your soul apart.
Tears are unpalatable dregs
of life's bitter reality.
And there is no escaping pain,
for love offers no guarantee.
The days accumulate like dust
gathering on the hands of time.
And as their numbers multiply,
anxieties begin to climb.
You feel isolated and shunned,
imprisoned inside of yourself.
For your heart has oft been broken,
and the pieces placed on a shelf.
Loneliness lingers like an ache
constantly gnawing at your heart.
And your smile fades, like an actor
whom fate has assigned, a bit part.
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