Pig Poem, for when you're feeling low

I Feel Awful

When life's at its darkest and everything's black
I don't want my friends to come patting my back.
I scorn consolation, can't they let me alone?
I just want to snivel, sob, bellow, and groan.

There's pleasure in weeping, a joy in despair;
There's a great satisfaction in tearing my hair.
Don't tell me I'm handsome: I want to be plain;
I don't want the sunshine; I want it to rain.

Why can't my friends see, when I'm feeling so low,
That the lower I get, then the higher I'll go
Later on. For before you can rise, you must drop;
If you haven't hit bottom, you can't reach the top.

For the way to be helpful to those who are down
Is not to be merry and act like a clown,
But to look on the dark side, and groan, and predict
That ruin impends, and they're finally licked.

So when I feel awful, just point out my flaws,
Don't try to console me and ask me to waltz.
Just tell me I'm stupid, convince me I'm sick,
Assert that my skull is some four inches think.

And then pretty soon when you've got me below
The point where my misery'd normally go,
I'll begin to feel better; I'll shake off my woes,
And I'll haul off and give you a sock on the nose.

By which you will know that your duty is done.
It may have been painful--may not have been fun;
But though flat on your back, with your nose in a sling,
You're satisfied, knowing you've done the right thing.

--Freddy the Pig