I Feel Uncomfortable with Happiness

I feel uncomfortable with Happiness

Her strange, unfamiliar ways make me wary

She is a little girl on the trespass of my psyche

Who dances, skips and sings around the room with imaginary butterflies and ponies

Happiness is inconsiderate of the old man Grief,

Stalwarth fellow who sits in the straight back chair, ever contemplating the world’s horrors, filled with fear feelings for the little naive girl and her delicate glass slippers

She sometimes crawls up to sit beside him, her little legs dangling over the edge, swinging

She looks up at him and smiles, full of trust

Never a hint of doubt

 

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