Acceptance کے بول

I swallow my own medicine in hopes of sadness curved I can't say it does nothing But wish it were more potent My words rebound and mock me What seems to be the issue? I know it is a cycle Acceptance is my name And still I tire of visits from this most unwelcome guest I feel it in my stomach It spreads throughout my chest What is it though but energy And why should it be bad? How does surrender differ from complacency? To strive and be content at once That staggering enigma To embrace the orbit of depression Yet not desire its presence To be still in its return Yet seek to heal all the same There's nothing left to say The hypocrite writes