Happiness is but a virtue
Always wanted
Sometimes achieved
But never kept
The slightest bit of sorrow
Can sweep away happiness
A mountain of roses
To be killed by never clearing skies
Sorrow
Like a disease
Is contageouse
For it is easier to be unhappy
To find the bad under all the good
To drag others along with you
Down to the dark
Like a child
Scared
Never wanting to be alone
 
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