Be happy?
Happiness is an illusion
Forced inside our minuscule brains to make us believe
We're not trying hard enough
That perfection is always out of reach
Because we can never, ever quite reach it
It's always beyond our fingertips
Because, it does not exist
But then we turn on ourselves
And scold ourselves for not feeling a feeling
That can never be felt
And we begin to believe we are weak
And we are complaining about too many things
Eventually turning inside out with agony
All to feel a feeling
Forced into our brains
That never has, or ever will
Exist.
(if you rated this poem low, please leave a comment and let me know how i can improve it. thx)
