I Will Never Go Through

Happiness

Why do I write about happiness while I am into misery? Why does my faith keep upside, while my sorrow is becoming anger?
It's don't have a clue, cause ashes dissapear, happiness is my last resource, I keep it, my dear.

Happiness is all what envy desires, big like a wall, soft like velvet sheets, happiness dances with our aura with beauty, with style.

Is it something true; is being happy alright? Happiness was firstly the centre of our forgotten lives, what a guy desires, happiness then surprises...