I Often Think Of Him

I often think of him that unhappy man at peace he now does lay
He had a mental illness some have been known to say
He often flew into an angry mood over something that seemed small
At times it seemed the poor bloke did not seem that well at all
And at times he did seem full of joy his mood swings up and down
But now he lay at peace forever more in the graveyard by the town
His tortured soul has found release from the unhappiness it did know
Though the reaper to him not that kind his end painful and slow
Of the judgements of others he forever now is free
In life he had his crosses and few as unhappy as he
He battled on for decades against his black dogs of despair
And the cross he was given in life was a heavy cross to bear
But now at peace forever all is quiet where he lay
And it will not affect him now what others of him say.