Like a broken record,

Every end of the week I stumble,

The misery that floods my soul,

Unbearable to lift up from,

Even with good news it lingers still,

A reminder that I'm not good enough,

Yet I want to get over this,

But how when I have fewer sources of joy,

Seems like alot is expected from me,

But my confidence is shaken so much,

Can I stand and see the glory?

Or will fear consume me and lose the way?

What works is just getting away from home,

A walk, a talk, a trip away from here.

From misery and all its forms.