UnhappinessUnhappiness comes in many sizes,faces and careers.
She may be ugly, beautiful, kind, unkind,rude or polite.
She may be...
the reek on your hair
the lack of oxygen in the bus
the corrupt politicians with devil in their organs
your legs that throw you down,to the ground
the pills that move you closer and closer to the black door
this sunday morning where the world has come to the end
and you feel like dying because your blood just isn't enough...
Unhappiness can be the dust that covers those old photo albums
that show a face which once used to be smiling and happy.
The army of unable people to react is in front of your eyes.
We all have our black doors that we will open,sooner or later.
Some of us will die from pills, some others from heroin
some others from love, some others from physical disabilities
some others will die from...
this inexcusable lack of loving Sunday mornings.
Poetry by Eva
Read 996 times
Written on 2009-07-13 at 14:09
Tags Sad  Sorrow  Life
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