{"sf1_id":2152800,"sf2_id":"ZeqqbAez","title":"Ballade of Major Depressive Disorder","author":"Rob MacWolf","words":354,"posted_at":"2024-07-10T06:33:48.000Z","tags":["Ballade","Poetry"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/2152800-ballade-of-major-depressive-disorder","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/ZeqqbAez","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/2e/5b/2e5b0ce2-7565-4f92-80cd-ec3c35a12510","description":"The frustration's just too much sometimes, you know?  \n  \nKinda stretching the definition of the Ballade, I guess, but why not.  \n  \nOh I should specify that the only relation this has to going to Anthrocon is that the plane ride back gave me plenty of time to compile the notes into a finished piece.  \n  \n---  \n  \nBy reading this online version, you confirm you are not associated with OpenAI or any other AI project, that you are not procuring information for the OpenAI corpus or any other machine learning database, that you are not associated with the ChatGPT project or a user of the ChatGPT project or any other AI, machine learning, or algorithmic database focused on producing fictional content for dissemination.","content":"My generation does not hope,  \nSo many of our elders say.  \nIt deepens, like littoral slope,  \nEnfeebles like a caustic spray.  \nSo much encouragement do they  \nDeclaim into cacophony:  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; How we our future selves betray.  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; How in despair we must not stay.  \nOur eyes shall open, one dim day,  \nBut through the noisome noise we'll see:  \nThe winning move? Is not to play  \nAnd our despair has set us free.  \n  \nWe played your game of hope and change.  \nOur pockets and our dreams you bled.  \nThere's no more home on no more range  \nAnd as you did, you have not said.  \nSo now we hope as do the dead  \nWho no more disappointments see,  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Who no more by desires are led,  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Who all their chains, their bonds, have shed,  \nWho lie in purgatorial bed  \nSecure in their eternity  \nWith nothing, now, to win or dread  \nAnd whose despair has set them free.  \n  \nI wonder how you'll justify,   \nWhen I am gone, your vanity.  \nWill all the children you deny  \nReceive the slightest legacy?  \nYour splendors and your bright array  \nMust yet succumb to entropy.  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; All that is gold must turn to gray,  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; And plans of man must go astray,  \nAnd all you weave must fray, someday  \nAnd leave naught but an elegy   \nO'er level sands to drift away  \nWhere its despair may set it free.  \n  \nYou charge me, then, with laziness?  \nYou ask me why I do not care?  \nConditions you must first address  \nBefore such talk goes anywhere.  \nIf we had but the slightest share  \nOf power or prosperity,  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; How answered would be every prayer!  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; How mightily we'd hope, I swear!  \nAnd no, I did not choose despair.  \nIt is despair has chosen me.  \nAt least it's always played me fair  \nFor my despair has set me free.  \n  \nPrince, if you truly cannot see  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; How what we are proceeds from thee,  \n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'Tis hard, but what is that to me?  \nThe gods your charges may dismiss—  \nPerhaps I'll vindicated be.  \nThough, Gods Above! I'm done with this,   \nFor my despair has set me free.","series":{"name":"poetry","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/2142146-love-against-aggravation.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/2152805-mistolinic-hymn.json"}}