I
laugh
at my troubles, just
laugh the hurt away.
It stays, and simply
retreats.
It always
comes back another day,
just like the rain.
The hurt that came
the moment you kissed her.
The hurt that came
when I ran away and
you didn’t follow.
The hurt that is there,
every day of
every week of
every hour of
every minute of
every second...
I have enough
hurt
for us all.
So the masochistic I
welcome into my arms,
the lonely may stand in my
warmth,
and the depressed will not come because
they have no comforting place.
The schizophrenic I will
console,
the bipolar I will
stabilize.
And finally
in the end I will rejoice in their
comfort,
even though I have none.
It’s the closest I can get to
happiness.