I guess I'll drown in this misery,
          Of the past
With my unburied self,
          I grasp
And every string of hope,
          I clasp
But as I grip tighter,
         I squall
Until I embellish my sorrow,

*I'm still lost.

We are frail
But could be stout
We are patient
But could be tired
We are deep
But could turn shallow
Rather true
But pick the fraud fellow.
Whoever we are
Are carved from jolts
Which heart embraces
And grabs then stitches.
But when the *****
Had too much dinge
And no more yarn
Left to sew the bits,
This marred love
Will become dust
For a weeping man
To succumb in scruple.

No one is happy.

You can be delighted
Or find glee
You can be elated
Or feel bliss
You can be enchanted
If once pleased
Maybe tickled
And feel thrilled.

But not happy
No never will be.

The fact is no one
No ONE is going to be

Since happiness
Utters farewells
Knocks once
Yes, leaves you breathless

But always leaves
Loves to leave

Like a cool breeze at midday
Or the role you like to play
Summer that goes away
Or someone who doesn’t want to stay.

Happiness is always a phase
Sometimes seen on others face.

No one is happy.
No one will be.

But I still hope we’ll be.

Some peaks of dark fall these monsters learn to ebb.
I wonder where they go or will they ever draw.
And what I hanker for is hear from them no more.
As blankets do not succour,
Even pecks,
or sweet ***** holds,
Dispatch or scuttle
Dingy veil these ghastly voices love to warble.