Depression At Its Finest

If I could change one trouble,

that people cannot liberate forlorn,

I would amend their unsettled fixations,

that haunt their tacit spar.

I, of course, talk of illness,

of the heart and soul and mind,

something assisted by psychiatry,

though not always can it remedy.

Can you truly mend what's hindered?

for all these years abroad?

with simple help of prescription,

and mindless babbling on?

These people are in need of eternal repose,

wouldn't you if gloomy?

Saddened every day?

they obtained it to be contented.

Though I may not caress what they tote day-to-day,

but I feel deep debated sympathy,

for their lacerated misery,

If selfsame you'd burly repeat my stance as well.