Gleeful Times,
Supposed content in a mask
of design.
Where joy leads in hand
lone sorrow,
pain lives the day-
absent love is tomorrow.
A glint in the eyes,
blinded solely by fear.
In a torrent of people
for a voice they shan't hear.
Behold, beneath forlorn beauty,
torn haggard- 'tis Cupid's Curse.
Smiles drown in darkness
and escape by Hope's hearse.
