Poem: Getting Better

It gets worse,

Before better,


Before you can attempt,

To sow it back again.

Hold on then,

Is my advice,

For the darkness,

It loves company,

Pain is not a single,

Nor a double,

It likes to compound.

You can always have more.


And they don’t want this known,

The pain-givers,

The darkness lovers,

You can always have more,

Of something dear,

Something light as air.

Or, perhaps,

Lightness itself.

Happiness is not finite.

Never treat it as such.

Give it freely,

It does not go away.

It will remain.

For, yes,

The end may not be in sight,

But, you must still climb beyond darkness.

There is passage.

Even if no one says so.

Special thanks to: Bob GerkinCollin PearmanDylan AlexanderJerry Banfield, and Michael The Comic Nerd. 

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