These eyes cast yonder,
this mind that wanders.
The clouds that drift
in that great blue rift.
I lay tossing and turning,
these dreams so concerning,
where love for depression
leads to my transgression.
Over the top into the dark,
my soul is falling it has hit its mark.
The clouds seem to rip as this darkness persists-
Where might our savior be when the sadness hits?
Out of this hell a light shines true,
a shadowy figure comes out of the blue.
He holds out his hand and offers volition,
a place of freedom or a life of sin.
As you pick your poison,
what might you indulge,
for what beats the better of sweet affection,
or might you act in the wrong direction.
These clouds still drift,
in this now crimson rift.
In my mind a sense of serenity,
my soul now knows its own identity.
