e. e. cummings claims the most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
Still would you concur?
With your Duchenne smile and tensed shoulders
Disappointed at the day of somber cheer and grave chuckles
Now you ask me why they suppressing their evident sadness
I want to swoop in, to shine until my death
Oh don’t ridicule me
You know in some ways you envy me,
Even if you still don’t understand me
I promise you in time…
Oh I can’t tell you it can only get better
Life starts not by asking “When?” No…
But at the moment of the second you choose to take it on