-Above Picture- if you know, you know-
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"What is happiness?"
My older self asked me one day.
I replied,
"I don't know, maybe a lie?"
"Why is that so?"
It retorted back with a voice cold.
I replied,
"Well,
It cannot really be created,
Yet it is felt.
It cannot be gotten,
Yet it is let go by people when they get it,
Not because they don't want it,
But because someone else does.
It's tiring,
Yet so soothing.
People strive for it,
Yet they cry when they get it."
"I see."
It said in a voice mean.
"Why do you ask?"
I questioned with my voice masked.
It smirked,
"Well,
I think I saw happiness.
Yesterday,
I saw you
With a smile,
When you saw your life flash before your eyes.
So I assume you'll be happy soon,
And I'm happy that you'll get your happiness in this world so cruel."
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-about-
written: february 21, 2021
Once again, I wrote this poem at my aunt's house. I have so many in this collection from there because I genuinely started experimenting with writing during those days.
It seems like this poem is a bit on the mysterious side, so I'm quite happy with it.
-anyways, thanks for reading, people!! do vote and comment if you liked it-
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paracosm-delusional nightmares
Poetry{poetry : completed} "𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞." in a tiny corner of the world, but in the vast corner of my imagination, this is my paracosmic delusion, something that i've created out of indignant, d...
