But why can't your poems be happy they said
Well they can be
But why should they be?
My fathomage of contemplation dives deeper than societally accepted
but I don't want to be societally accepted
That's why I came here.
Go to your party and sing happy songs
And make happy conversation
And dream happy thoughts
And cry not so happy tears, when the happiness that was packed so tightly into the palms of your fists dissipates and leaves you shattered.
For my fists are open
And my words are spoken
And my poetry may not be happy or grace
But it sure leaves a smile on my face