Happiness.
by MisInterpret
Stretch your arms out to the sky, curled fingers, no hand to fill the spaces
to write love on one's arm
you expect many lessons.
You cry tears, you worship him, you are filled with joy for the moment,
but then you crawl back into the place where you once was lost
surrounded by devil's advocates and angels suffering from blasphemy
this isn't a place where you find yourself happy.
Dante's inferno, it suited the inside of your spirit
burned like ecstasy, you reach out for your soul
somehow, it seems to sneak away like children hungry for mother's milk
but it's all dried up.
Happiness, everyone seems to suckle away this joy you crave.
When we was younger, we was taught to "reach" for a mother's love
turned away when they said we was too "big" to be carried,
who said God had a weight limit on picking his children up when they have fallen.
we only stay down when the ground gets comfortable...
happiness.
I have yet to accept it that until I stop searching, my joy will be limited.
spirits diminished.
I am weak with an unconditional amount of ignorance
because I was never taught that God is my only source of judgment.
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SCREAM @ ME!!!
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