December morning mists,
Mirrors to life's mysteries

As gray as they are the tones
and timbres of this existence

December morning mists,
like veils upon the face
of truth

As cold and as distanced are they
As every friend I ever thought cared

Life is a perfect mystery,
everything is uncertain
especially my own

I can’t tell you whether or not it may be

the deepest depths
of my envy

or the most manifest
of all of my animosity

that drives me to hate your happiness.

But when you tell me so blithely,
Of how you’re being honoured now
Loved, cherished and respected
I feel disjointed, too far left out

I’ve never had a
truly happy moment
For as long as I have lived

Why? Well,
Each and every day they claimed
They loved me, they wanted so forcefully
To make me feel happy

And I was
Seeing beyond fake smiles
Shattered by false impressions
designed to force a smile of my own

The chaos in my mind
Prevents me from ever
Feeling at peace, in love
Securely, strongly; but ever
In my life have I had a
truly happy moment?

Because your self-inflicted smile
Is etched in the same flesh
As my wail of inner pain

It’s loud enough to convince me that, somehow,
your happiness is far more important than mine.


And somehow, any sense of compassion is nullified
because your life is a fortress, just an absorption
from and for the matters within your own mind.