Depressed Poem by sheetal Vincent

Waiting for the feeling of acceptance,
Devoid of treacherous hands
Fearful of being alone
Taking tentative steps in my path
Unaware of the end of the path

Walking along the lines of mystery
With solitude as company
Filling inner self with little drops
Drops of euphoria that seldom fall but ardently received
Feeling content with the little

Fortunately mollified by comforting words
That rejuvenates my soul like a stimulant
Making every opportunity fruitful
Hoping to return the errand

These errands seem sorrowful to the other eye
Increasing the chaos within me
Opening my eyes to see the evident hypocrisy
That I often failed to see and have born with its penalty