The Shepherd was depression

For too long I was a sheep to the wrong Shepherd
The Shepherd issued insults and orders like commandments
 Followed like a mindless sheep
Penned in a field with a flock of drifters and misfits
Respected the Shepherd since I was a little lamb
 Held the lies I was told to be the Gospel truth
Allowed myself to be used as manure to grow the Shepherds roses
The Shepherd kept the flowers but left me the thorns to make a crown with
Carried denial and self-hatred around like a crucifix
The Shepherd taught me to hurt myself
I whipped myself
I was devout
I was the donate your salary, bake cookies for charity, knock on doors to convert people at six am on a Saturday type
My faith was misplaced.
The Shepherd is the depression that lingers in the back of my mind
It is like wearing sunglasses every moment of my life
Everything is tinted with darkness
I may never escape the Shepherd but can occasionally I can remove the glasses
I hope to one day escape the field and finally see where the light is.