They say I should be smiling every day —
with all I have what more could I need?
But joy, at times softly drifts away,
a flower buried deep beneath a weed.
Laughter arrives, a shadow on a wall,
like flickering light in a crowded room.
Some days, the sunshine doesn’t warm at all,
and hope drifts softly, like a lost balloon.
A smile can fade like drawings in the rain,
a fog that folds around a sprightly heart.
The bright, blue sky can’t stop the pain,
It’s like I’m watching joy tear me apart.
A thousand shades of sadness live inside me,
yet now I persist, even when joy feels heavy.
October, 2025
