adventures in dysthymia

Friday, February 17, 2012

Unhappy, a poem, sort of

UNHAPPY

I was unhappy until I recognized
I would never be happy.

Once I accepted that truth,
it removed the burden you had handed me,

all you who said I could choose happiness,
all you who asked why not be happy?

And so I was unhappy that I could not be happy,
could not live up to the world's expectations.

They should not have been my expectations.
I am not happy. I am not unhappy.

That's good enough for me.

Stephen Brooke ©2012

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