My friend, you’ll understand, of course!

My friend, you’ll understand, of course!
Now at this hour of dejection
Like magic, firmly, desperation
Dismays me filling with remorse…

Why is there so much depression
And pain in my contracted chest?
I don’t need lights, and I confess
I’m tired of any congregation.

Those waiting for the Lord, with bias…
The thing they find is just the devil…
They are despaired by the revel
Of Satan always telling lies…

Those showing mercy gentle-willed
And wounding others willy-nilly…
Or should we stop attempting, really,
For ailment is the only shield?


December 29th, 1912