why do i not write happy things
about the smiling faces
and the laughter breezes.
why do the happy times
slip through my fingers
as they begin to type.
why must i see the sadness in the world
in the faces of people
with huge smiles on their faces,
knowing they are hiding the truth.
why don't i sing a happy song
about the birds and the bees
and the sun beating on my skin.
the burn lines and freckles
the high-fives and kisses.
why do these never cross my mind?
why do only tears fall onto the keyboard
as my mind races.
why do my words sound angry
when i speak my mind
and why does sin surround me
with every step i take.
why can't i think of happy places
in a field of flowers with nothing but friends
all with laughter in their voices.
why does the atmosphere around me
strangle me with nothing-
numb, not even a heart beat.
why do i wonder these nonsence things
while my mind races and loses
the battle with the truth.
why must i hide these feelings
of happiness from the world.
maybe its because i am really suffering
and the happiness i think i see
is nothing but my memories blinding me from the truth.