Inspire me beloved poetry,
surrounded in nothingness,
alone and lonely,
no place to call home but hell,
but if hell is my realm then what next may come,
asked I the suicidal bastard son,
life has plagued me since conception,
suffering ill fate an apathetic complexion,
a bottomless depression,
hence leaving the question,
if no being is willing to help,
nor capable, not even myself,
then what should stop I, the bastard son,
from turning the gun on myself,
before I blew the life out from behind my eyes,
I lay in catatonic thought all night,
sadly simple insight provides no sound conclusion,
and I was all to familiar,
with mental illusion,
before my demise I desired to see the sun rise,
and as the moon fell from my sight the sun hot on its trail,
I had not yet a conclusion,
the orange giant rose from the east,
its beauty had made me complete,
and again before my demise,
from inside,
to my surprise,
a rarity,
a positive thought did arise,
if the sun was to rise anew everyday,
who was to say I could not do the same,
who could claim my life was a waste,
I would no longer stay in this place,
to struggle through life with manic depression,
is to do battle with repression,
to decimate an apathetic complexion,
to earn the right to tell the tale,
of the bastard son who crawled out of hell,
for if I did witness this occasion,
then surely it is possible others can too,
it must be true we can all make it through,
I shall never forget that moment,
my vision did funnel,
and for the first time,
I saw the light at the end of the tunnel