Pressed

My strength is dissipating, as if my soul wishes to die,
This gloom consumes my inner light as a bound up butterfly.
This life has lost its meaning, I am searching for a reason…
to make my presence worth the oxygen that I am breathing.
Why can’t I be better? Why can’t I fill a purpose?
all that I am in this hour looks to me as though it’s worthless…
never enough love, enough money, enough need…
and those depending on this shell, could do better than me?
I have been limited to my contributions, its never been enough,
its seems that I bring misery to everyone one I touch.
Some may call this depression, and that raised the inner question
is it I that caused this turmoil for the “de” before my pressing?
It hit me like a ton of bricks, shed light upon my pain…
I am my own catalyst, the creator of my change.
My lack of fight against myself, this messed up way of thinking,
has left me in this gloomy pit, each day further sinking.
I lost the “de” and I just PRESSED, and that gave me an “im”
and now this light, it burns so bright, no longer is it dim.
I added “sur” to all my doubt, and did away with “o”
this brought a “re” to all the joy that once inside me showed.
all this mess, and all this stress, this pain inside my chest
was remedied with one swift move, see I just had to PRESS