MOPE

MOPE

Roger A. Davis

Moody blues
Dark hues
Fate's dues

Drag your feet
Take the heat
Electric seat

Down in the dumps
Take your bumps
We are all chumps

Dig your grave
Never brave
Life seems depraved

Glass half empty
Don't want sympathy
Just a rope and tree

Okay, my mope is done
I'll be up with the rising sun
My sorrows have had their run

Not often I get down
Usually the party clown
So don't frown

The depression has lifted
By remembering I'm spiritually gifted
From sadness to joy it has shifted