The bowl overwhelms me – there is no other place;
the bowl is blank and drear, just like my haggard face.
They tell me it’s still out there – the world of my youth,
I hear consoling words but can’t see their truth.
There is no world but my bowl – it’s here I am reborn
and from its dark chasm my soul cannot be torn.
I hear them explain “it’s depression you are in”
but I know in my heart it’s the sum of all my sin.