How I wish I had a gun,
I'd point it at the sun,
And shoot it from the sky.
I think happiness can die.
'Cause I've never felt it once,
Thick clouds,
There is no sun.
I see the happy people,
And I think they are all fake.
How can you be so happy,
As they pull bodies from the lakes?
How can you be so happy,
When kids can't help but shake,
When their parents come home drunk at night?
How can you be so happy,
When kids lay down and cry?
How can you be so happy,
When we wish we could die?
How can you be so happy,
When you just saw blood drip from that guy,
Because, lo-and-behold,
Humans can't survive bullet holes.
The world is fucked,
No such thing as luck.
How I wish I had a gun,
I'd point it at the sun.
How can you be so happy?
YOU ARE READING
Mistaken
PuisiA book of poems about the LGBT, depression, selfharm, suicide, freedom, and society.
