The Language of Happiness

Happiness was a foreign language 

Cheek tops stained with tears of anguish 

 

The games she played ate her away 

Stripped her of every moral vow she ever made 

 

She looked at her scars in the mirror with such disgust and shame 

A vibrant butterfly with others was just a trickster playing a game 

 

All of her mistakes were tattooed on her heart 

Everything she never gave haunted her in the dark 

 

Water was poured as she consumed champagne 

Mental illness had possessed her innocent brain 

 

A revelation occured and help was on the way

Poetry arrived before it was too late 

 

She started seeing her bruises as signs of victory rather than death 

Weakness became history as she finally took a pleasurable breath 

 

An overdue remedy of blissful clarity 

Shined on the girl so brave and worthy 

 

A look into the future and one could say 

She is fluent in the language of happiness 

Thankful she lived to see many more days 

Years of love and laughter transcended her temporary sadness 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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