There is no life
No one is happy
Happiness does not exsist
There's always something that could be better
Why are the rich so unhappy?
Because they have nothing more to gain
Because they have everything and it's still not enough
A nation of fragle frames
Precariously leaning on the hope of purpose
Always searching, searching, searching for something
Bitter coffins crying out "If only, if only!"
"If only I was a little taller, then I'd be happy"
There is no greater lie than perfection; all is vanity
The closest thing we have to happiness
Is it's small shadow named hopes and dreams
That casts its shade upon all of us
© Copyright 2016 Ayla Daniels. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Religion and Spirituality
Miscellaneous / Other
Poem / Poetry
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