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?
