Happiness is a Misnomer

Tick tock to a halt; it’s one, then two, then stop

Her breathing slows, her small throat swells

Tears are rolling down her cheeks

It may seem morbid, it may seem wrong

But I’m not ashamed of how I feel

What makes me happy has no name

It festers in fear and fills my soul

I feel every fiber of my gray hairs lift

My fingers palpate the harmony of fate

Though you may not, I do, I do!

I know the symphony, I know the composer

I can save her life

This poem is about: 
Me

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