I am happy.
for a while at least..
I was just a lonely child,
In the world full of riant people,
Happiness, remained a concept futile.
The want for fatal lovers arose,
“Maybe in their spurious arms,
Will I finally be loved?”
Wanted. Needed. Less alone.
Left my heart out in the wild to be usurped.
But when the darkness falls through,
I lie awake with vacillating hopes;
All of me is divided and lost.
Not in love or belonging,
But in charity;
Soliloquising, I befriended the moon,
But even she leaves me when the sun dares to rise,
I don’t know how much hope I have left in me,
I seem to age years as the seconds pass by;
Some warm winter afternoon,
Your fingers flirted with my skin,
Whispers of my soft hair with your face too,
Tranquility, just you and i;
I believed you were just a figment of my imagination,
I made you up,
Because how could anyone ever love me?
My edges are as jagged as a broken mirror,
Parts of me scattered all over the floor,
I’m not a good person.
I’ll cut you.
I’ll hurt you.
I’ll make you bleed.
I’ll make you leave.
I’ll say things you wouldn’t want to hear.
You say goodbye now so the pain is easy to bear.
It seems that you are invincible to my sharp tongue,
So, now euphoria seeks me out,
I no longer run.
I’m still a child in a world full of riant people,
But, this time, I’m happy too.
The reality of trying to find happiness when a person is constantly jagged, by themselves or by others, is often spoken of. Although, the thought of self deprecation is frequently missed through it. Pain can be beautiful but also jarring.
pain poetry poem happiness sadness
