He was a boy
who knew only
the best way to be sad.

That never sat right in his mind.

Always pressured
to try and be happier,
the sadbeast learned
how to appear happy
no matter what might be felt.

His eyes reflected back the joy
that other people felt
so that the waters of his own soul
might be shielded
from their prying eyes.

His face was a mask
and a mirror.
The onlooker wouldn't see
a sadbeast,
but would see whatever animal
they themselves were.

His mirror-mask would show
joycrawlers and bubblybees,
cheermonkeys and lovebunnies,
happypups and pleasureweasels.

Other people found
their less fortunate images
would be reflected as well,

and so the boy
was mistaken for
a drearydove and a cryfrog,
a hollowflower and a weepinghart.

So perfect was his imitation technique
that the sorrowful ones thought
they found a kindred heart,
while the joyous ones thought
they found one of their own brood.

This did not make the sadbeast less sad.

The boy was never happy
the way other people were.
He didn't need to be.

He could be happy
in the way a sadbeast might.

He shivered in the cold wind
of a spring morning.

He saw the sun crest over a sullen hill,
and watched gray clouds light
with a sorrowful sigh
as each quiet beam of sunlight
graced the air.

The boy sang the sadbeast song
and frowned while he smiled.

I can see Him
the specter of Death
In the corner
with a magazine

Patient fellow
He knows I'm not well

There's no hunger
just quiet waiting
I used to fear
Barely notice now

Patient fellow
Can't say I'm surprised

A part of Life
Not my favorite
But still a part
I'll manage a smile

Quiet watcher
I'm grateful for that

He doesn't glare
Doesn't smile either
We're old buddies
Friends of circumstance

Quiet watcher
I like it that way

Other people run
I don't see the point
Can't run from him
End up closer still

Peaceful Reaper
He knows me well

He's been waiting
Doesn't know how long
Could be a day
He will wait until--