Let your sorry be true.

In the depths of despair's dark abyss, where anguish reigns supreme, Allow your sorrow to unfold, like a lamenting, mournful dream. Let the weight of your regrets, the pangs of your pain, Flow forth in cathartic tears, and wash away the stain. Don't camouflage your heartache, with a mask of pretended cheer, For inauthentic joy can never heal, the wounds that bring you fear. Instead, confront the shadows, that haunt your troubled mind, And let the balm of self-compassion, soothe the hurts you've left behind. In the crucible of sorrow, your soul is refined and tried, Like tempered steel, forged in fire, your heart is strengthened and applied. The trials that beset you, though fierce and wild and free, Will temper your resilience, and teach you to be. Let your sorrow be true, a genuine, heartfelt refrain, A symphony of suffering, that echoes through your pain. For in its darkest depths, lies a seed of transformation's might, A phoenix rising from the ashes, in the light of new dawn's sight. Don't hasten to assuage, the sting of your despair, For in its slow unraveling, lies a wisdom beyond compare. Let the sorrow wash over you, like a cleansing, healing tide, And when it recedes, you'll find, a stronger, wiser