Your soothing voice can be heard like the rattle of morning breath passing through the tender leaves.
When it slips between the delicate branches and reaches my window, your soft breath awakens me.
It awakens me, like the rays of your smiling sun that escape from my room\'s drapes and dance gleefully on my white ceiling.
The ceiling, which has been transformed into a white canvas ready to be painted with your morning lights\' exuberant dances.
The glorious mornings that used to replenish our pure souls when we were kids.
Long before the cobwebs of sadness clung to the nooks and crannies of our hearts,
and the shadowy ghosts of sorrow sat in the rocking chairs, staring frightfully into our eyes.
When we walk or sit, a winged, thorny-headed dark ghost of black anguish descends on our chests.
He digs his poisonous fangs into our hearts, draining the happy life force out of them.
With his clawed hands, he presses tightly on our necks to prevent the breath of life from re-entering again,
and with his claws, the demon of depression rips open our guts,
infusing them with the scalding black water of diabolic hell.
The diabolical hell that has always been the source of the rivers of dark water.
The dark water that flow through our hearts at depressing nights, watering the unhealed wounds.
The unhealed scars left by coming into intimate contact with the domain of brutality.
The ancient domain of brutality that burrowed its way into the fabric of life,
and into the unmistakable marks of its fangs that are still visible in our souls, leaving gaping bleeding holes.
The depression\'s well-known gaping bleeding holes that can turn our lives into a virtual nightmare.
A serious horrific nightmare until your sweet breath awakens me,
and the rays of your smiling sun break through my room\'s curtains,
and dance merrily on the white ceiling once again.