Depressed, With Halo

He wears his depression like a tarnished, tattered, scratched and dented halo, scavenged at some demented yard sale, bought and sold on the cheap (But, oh! The price he pays - priceless!) His pants hang dejectedly, sadly, drooping and dragging, two sizes too large His shoulders, dripping with no self-confidence at all, have given up even trying to unbend, unstoop, down-trodden, hopeless, no energy, no spirit, no charge His head hangs forward on a neck with no spine, cocked slightly sideways, avoiding a long-ago slap a resounding shadow of ancient, horrid history still ever-present, still looming large and very, very still Given the gravity of the situation, I can no longer push the elephant up his steep and treacherous hill Still…