In anger he punched the window and shattered the glass.
He looked at himself, and he looked at his broken heart.
He looked at the broken pieces of the glass,
and he picked them up in his depressed state,
and he thought of harming himself,
but the world was already dark enough,
and he chose to cling to life,
for death was a gamble, and heaven and hell are uncertain,
and in life he took a chance, and so many do not,
so many do not, and cannot live with such broken hearts,
but this world, this world it is a tragedy for so many,
a tragedy that should not be,
that should not be filled with anxiety and pressure,
because it helps no one and does not advance society,
but why cannot society realise,
simplicity brings much more happiness,
for happiness is far too rarely seen,
and it is a sad state of affairs that should not be,
and many do not choose to live, but instead choose suicide,
and life is a gamble and a terrible game of chance,
but depression is an awful thing,
and far too many people’s lives are ended early,
and die broken hearted and without fulfilling their dreams,
and it should not be because people should be able to be free,
free of such stress and such anxiety that the world and society seem to force upon so many,
as if organised by a subversive God,
in a terrible deliberate machiavellian dream.
