1 Corinthians 15:51 (Mystery and Victory)

I felt like writing a poem/lament psalm in the vein of Bradley Hathaway. I tried not to rip off his style completely. This is more or less what I'd call a lament psalm:

let this sadness envelope me
like a blanket of shame and swollen misery
so cold and heavy it is
so tiresome and worrying it is
to be so bothered and smothered
by my own shortcomings and failings
that i can't come to grips
with this pain that rips
it's way through
my arteries and ventricles
i am only a humble vessel
a poor human, nothing special
that's been used and abused
these past two decades
my pain, no doubt it wanes
but sometimes it swells
to an interminable size
so you see why i stumble
why i'm splitting at the seams?
why i'm clawing at the very corners of my dreams?
i'm as they say, "lost at sea, a lonely seafarer!"
my allusions are too vague however
and my metaphors so weak
my prose isn't all that clever
but out of my sadness, a solemn voice speaks
"You are not lost you wretched little thing!
Whoever put the thought in your poor little mind?"
the voice echoes, reverberates, then dissipates
as quick as it comes, so hastily it goes
and here i am again
left to propose,
am i alone?
not really.