Whens

When too much stress has made my life a pain
And weighed me down with weariness and woe;
When even breathing goes against the grain,
And breath itself comes laboring and slow;
When waking up is pointless, or seems so,
Yet sleep has fled me night by endless night;
When from my efforts nothing good will grow,
Except perverted sprouts twisted with spite;
When darkness visible's my only light,
And sunshine fails to warm me as it falls;
When I am wrapped up in my selfish plight,
And turn from empathy whene'er it calls;
When life has made itself an inner hell,
I speak to you, and everything is well.