Happy Thoughts?

If you could see inside my mind, oh the horrors you would find.

The sweetest dreams would meet you first and then the morbid thoughts would burst right through the joy, and as you weep you'd notice one thing particularly bleak.  There is a hall with paintings hung, and in the paintings people drawn, and all the people are without a face, as if they were all erased or smudged from memory.

 

This hall of "forget me nots" is kept to honor the forsaken ones.  The ones I lost, the ones I loved, the ones who thought I was not enough.  Too morbid, too dark, too wrapped up to keep.  Unbeknownst to them my love runs deep, and in the darkest times I find my love the strongest of my lifelines.  It never dies, it never drains, it's constant no matter how much pain it puts me through.  Few understand my "madness" is only emptiness.  Emptiness, which entraps my mind in an attempt to bind me entirely under its grasp.

 

But who are you to judge my thoughts?  Am I mad?  Insane?  Just a lost cause?  To me I find a different judgment to be placed upon myself.

 

Happiness is what you make of it, and some think happy is all it is.  But what is happiness without disaster?  The horror which makes joy so peaceful.  Nothing is the answer my friend, for without despair happiness cannot be shared.  I welcome the pain in my life to some extent I can't explain, but when it gets too much at times I find a remedy to bide my time.

 

I write, I joke, I laugh aloud and hang out in the faces of a crowd, for the darkness of an empty room is so peaceful like the grave that left to me I would never leave it.