Depressed

Misery is knocking I’m holding the knob Mind’s not made up, Verdict; a hard bone to chew With my milky teeth, That’s too sharp to tear The tongue, willing To tell out my pain. Wish someone can open The door from outside or Come in through the window. Maybe my hero is farther Or my burning heart can’t be felt Neither can the flame be seen. Misery is knocking still, I can hear her voice Loud and clear. Confusion; a well baked bread Collaborate with demise steaming in the oven, Yet known can perceive The sweet smelling savour. Misery in stillbirth No midwife to deliver her.