Passion of Sorrows

Oh passion of sorrows,

preying upon the weak.

Endless days and nights,

leaving depression in her sleep.

Does it not worry you so that this is now in the world?

That this has plagued your friends?

Have you become hardened against this faithless world,

left only to the dogs to devour?

Oh Mother Passion,

how she cons the world into using her.

It seems as if not one person can earn their success fairly.

They pawn off their bodies, hoping for success,

cadavers of surgeons, they are.

May it not even happen for many of them,

disappointment weighing down their hearts.

Finally, Father Death,

whose call some wait for.

‘Tis the end of a great Greek Tragedy,

never to fulfill hopes and dreams.

Is this the end or possibly just the beginning?

Oh, Passion of Sorrows, Mother Passion, and Father Death,

where is thy call?