Painful Sunday

Don't you hate headaches on a cloudy Sunday?
With nothing but pain, and darkness all around?
A day to worship, and sing out praises,
And all you want, is a day without sound.

Any number of people, are gathered in churches,
Celebrating life, in a number of ways.
Laughing and sharing, in sweet fellowship,
And here you sit, alone, and locked away.

Alone with your thoughts, depression sets in,
It's hard to be joyful, when you just don't care.
You sit, and you think, of all you are missing,
You just want to curl up, and die somewhere.

You take the pills, you rock back and forth,
You pray for relief, with no end in sight.
You know He can heal you, but the pain is so strong,
Your doubt casts a shadow, you can't see the light.

You give up, and go to bed, and hope you can sleep,
You'll trade in the black, for a little bit of gray.
The best you can do, is dream of happiness,
And believe that tomorrow, will be a brighter day.