What makes me happy?

What an odd little question you ask

I thought life was supposed to be hard

I thought I was supposed to pass by misfortune without any regard

I thought you wanted me to be miserable

But yet, you stand there

Crying and slowly dying

Blubbering out your little quips

Pain and sorrow but little ones upon your lips

And you ask me, what makes me happy?

Well, you asked so I will partake

What makes me happy?

Ah, I know!  The sound of…

No, not that…

Too many times the sound of her voice is followed by the crack..

Of my heart…

Oh I know! It’s my…

No, not my art

For it sings and rings of the heart…

Which is prone to fade to black

And is followed by that sickening crack…

I have it now! I know what makes me happy!

I love when...

No, not even then

For the smile that parts ever so thin

Is but a lie, for my love to drown in

What do you think makes me happy?

My family?

My art?

My words?

My lovers?

My lies?

My deceits?

My flaws?

Or the open arms into which I fall

As the weight of it all

Is looking me in the face

Without time or place

But a damming shadow

Of the pain I swallow!

What makes me happy?

The look on your face

As you hear my words

And brave the tirade of my vocal chords

What makes me happy?

This song...

…of our silly little tragedy