I found myself lonesome.
I came upon what I thought was a house.
I knocked on the door.
It was opened by what I thought must be Angel.
She had hair like a beautiful halo.
A flawless face of true beauty.
Her voice was in a pitch that could sing a sonnet causing tears of joy.
She asked me to stay, who would leave heaven?
One day I awoke and the Angel had become dark.
The flawless face had taken the shape of a scowl.
The pitch of the sonnet had become a screech.
It was then that it dawned on me, I didn't walk into heaven but rather my own casket.
Buried in misery, entombed in sadness and covered in debt.
