Conscripted Poem by Jerry Lewis

Sometimes I feel,
That life has no thrill,
But then I realize,
This is only the outlook through my eyes.

Away with the birds I wish to fly,
This world I demonize,
To only me does this apply?
Can anyone hear my cry?

Some call them the depressed,
The ones who feel emotionally suppressed,
Others refer to them as the weak,
For this world has no room for the meek.

And so it is said,
They are sick in the head,
Not the sick that confines to bed,
No, for in the depths of hell was this sickness bred.

Nothing out of its reach,
It spreads into my speech,
Operating much like a parasite,
You are forever stricken by its bite.

Lying sleepless in bed at night,
No notion of wrong or right,
This is a most terrible feel,
Why doesn't it just go for the kill?

Slowly the feeling consumes you,
Oh what is there you can do?
For that there is no answer,
It consumes you like a terrible cancer.

And now the war is lost,
And oh it is at such a great cost,
For now you will forever be,
Another soulless corpse in the emotionally dead army.