Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
We've mastered the art of finding sadness; In a little house, inhabiting a tiny space We understand its variations, its madness We know its address, its hiding places But happiness is more complicated Rarely found, we're constantly searching. Its attached to stereotypicality, abbrieviated If not received, it causes constant hurting It dwells over a vast continent And thus the search is longer We start to lose our confidence The yearn for it grows ever stronger The home of happiness has since grown And iron lock placed on its door The key seems lost, will it ever be found? I think it lurks in disguised places Not on sunny days, on lusious grounds Or in gleeming eyes or smiley faces It hides in misconception Like a thief in the night Drenched in deception Ready to pounce, to fight You off and those who stumble on Sadness become addicted to the little house And do not dare travel where they may get Lost. But live in its hole, as a spinless mouse We are terrified of the unknown But we've never wanted something more
0
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
happiness
We've mastered the art of finding sadness; In a little house, inhabiting a tiny space We understand its variations, its madness We know its address, its hiding places But happiness is more complicated Rarely found, we're constantly searching. Its attached to stereotypicality, abbrieviated If not received, it causes constant hurting It dwells over a vast continent And thus the search is longer We start to lose our confidence The yearn for it grows ever stronger The home of happiness has since grown And iron lock placed on its door The key seems lost, will it ever be found? I think it lurks in disguised places Not on sunny days, on lusious grounds Or in gleeming eyes or smiley faces It hides in misconception Like a thief in the night Drenched in deception Ready to pounce, to fight You off and those who stumble on Sadness become addicted to the little house And do not dare travel where they may get Lost. But live in its hole, as a spinless mouse We are terrified of the unknown But we've never wanted something more
julia-denham
Written by
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem