I have been described as a hilarious person,
One who makes the days of others.
My jokes are plentiful,
My smiles large and many.
I am known as a very happy person.
What is this feeling hidden inside?
What is this feeling I get when I should be feeling the happiest?
This feeling I get when I’m on my own,
When I’m quiet,
When I’m left to my own thoughts and my own devices?
Is it sadness?
Is this feeling rage and pure fury?
Is it yearning?
Is it some type of want or need?
Am I full of hatred?
Or a love so great my body can’t handle it?
Is this the feeling of a broken heart that has never loved and yet to be loved?
Why is it that I’m so full of pain
That I can’t cry,
That all tears have fled?
Why is it that I would rather be gone,
Or better yet,