I'm pretty convinced that happiness will always happen in fleeting, minuscule glimpses....that it shall never occupy a majority...that it is the perpetual swiftly moving cloud I race after to no avail.
Some things I can change...others I can not.....seems the latter grows larger day by day, occupying more and more of the ticking clock with fallen, heavy hands.
How long have I searched, empty caves and caverns deep, only to sense the growing abyss.
Fairness is like the muck that gets stuck in the crevices of your boot.
I throw up my hands and stand in the twister. Despair is the small creature beside me that keeps me warm.
Some things...I will not win, so I will no longer try. Resignation is a soft pillow, in a quiet room, with the door tightly shut.
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