This is the House of Depression.
It has stood since the beginning of Time.
When Adam left God
He built this façade
And enslaved us to its pantomime.
Cain carried on in his footsteps
And the son of honor did destroy.
Doomed to till and trod
An earthen sod
Like he, barren of joy.
The despair hangs in here thick as curtains
Heavy drapes from the ceiling to floor
Covering every wall
In a funeral pall
And deceptively hiding the door.
The House beckons you for a visit
And you casually stroll up the walk
Supposing those within
Had beckoned you in
For some tea and cake with light talk.
Once inside, you notice the Darkness
And suffocating, the lack of true air
The dead conversation:
The spirit’s deflation
And the acrid, stink of despair.
Do you run for the door while you see it?
Muster a smile and pull up a chair?
People speaking inane
But going privately insane
Can you outlast the Darkness in there?
Hopelessness threads conversation
You surreptitiously search for the door.
All drapes aside
You’ve nothing to hide
You just refuse to hear any more.
Voila! You have discovered the windows
And the world out there in the light
If they could just see
What they could be
Outside the House of Eternal Night.
Optimistic, you search for the entrance
And hand closes ‘round the old knob.
The buoyancy you feel
Because your dreamt deliverance is real
Is cathartic; and you let out a sob.