Circling the Drain

It’s hard to be happy
When you’re half scarred to death.
Fear is paralyzing
It sure takes your breath.

You hold on to life
With a rock-solid grip
Vowing to keep
A stiff upper lip.

You sweat and you pray
And hope for the best
All the while feeling
You’re the brunt of some jest.

Hoping to appear
You’ve not lost control
Your heart is a riot
Of shake, rattle, and roll.

Happiness is valued
As an end in itself.
What a shame it can taint
Your spiritual health.

I promise myself
I’m bigger than this pain.
Yet, I fear that my life
Is circling the drain.