Reverse

Ouch, the interject!

It's supposed to hurt, to make one suffer.

Shed tears through winced faces,

Smile through hidden facades

Aww..the whimper!

In shrill tones

Coarse with a coat of distress

Veiled with normalness.

"May our lives be filled with joy"

Let the kneel and pray drill commence.

Light a candle 

Or throw a shiny penny 

In a wishing well.

Mine! The declare.

Claiming ownership

Over a shooting star!

Not fair, the sulk

Over slipped bliss, amid shattered hearts.

Not fair this pang, this twisty feeling in the gut!

Sorrow isn't a welcome guest

Lobby against it with an agenda

With passion, playing the victim.

Sorrow that plays protagonist,

 So fulfilling in movie scenes

In painful poems, soulful songs.

But on the plate, it stands out sore.

It isn't fair! It's a frightful chore.

But then again

Sorrow is burn, a cleanse even.

It could be a pal undercover,

The push  out of the cozy corner.

And where's progress

If the being is snug in its comfort zone?