Tag Archives: sad


Happiness is a talent,
Or so I’ve been told.
But it’s not a gift
That I have, I wear
Sadness like a second skin,
Always there and always clinging.
Fearful of joy
Due to its short shelf life,
Scared of anything other
Than sorrow, which I adore
In its simplicity.
Maybe I’m not meant to grin
And beam, perhaps I’m made
To grimace and give just tiny smiles,
And I think I’m ok with that.
Just let me ponder it awhile.


Perhaps you never heard
My cries, every night after
You and my mother split up.
They’d slip down my face
And litter my pillow,
A watery embrace was what sleep
Had become. I was only eleven,
A child in every way,
And yet I’d suffered more
In one day than I had
In a decade.

It made me grow,
Faster than I should have.
It made me wiser than my years,
For though I am now nearly twenty
I’ve cried enough tears and felt
Enough anguish to be nearly sixty.
How I wish I were younger
And more carefree. Oh how I wish
I had had the chance to find out
What it meant to be me.

Living Eyes

Look into my eyes
And you’ll see how I
Became me. Every tear
From pain, suffering and sorrow.
Every dream and hope
Of having a better tomorrow.
All the love and loss,
Living and heartache.
The sunrises and sunsets
That furnish my soul,
But no one wants to see
The loathing- that black burning
Hatred, directed at no on
And nothing apart from myself.
Maybe that’s why no one looks
Into my eyes, maybe that’s why
No one sees me.


Soft snowy fur,
Brilliant green eyes
And a booming purr.
Never has one cat
Meant more than family,
She’s the past…my childhood,
Happiness, sunshine, innocence
All in a white fluffy bundle.
But she’s dying.
Slowly and surely with each passing
Tick tock of the clock,
As every dawn and dusk herald
The closing of her lifetime.
The end of joy, the loss of memories,
My very first cat: Snowbell.

(She’s not dead yet but she’s 15, a bit senile and frankly has seen better days. Amongst other things her balance is off and she’s got a weepy eye. But everyone can see that the clock is ticking. -she’s currently curled up on my lap purring away quite happily.)

Wear it Well

I would send you
To the very gates of Hell,
But Darlin’ you wear pain
So well.

Those red lines
Embedded in your eyes,
Those bitten down lips
And voice exhausted from sighs.
Tears rolling down cheeks
Leaving glistening streaks,
You’re left weak.

I would send you
To the very gates of Hell,
But Darlin’ you wear pain
So well.

Flattened finger nails,
Chipped and worn.
All dressed in black
To show your pain,
The burning sun making
You red again.
You’re in your own Hell,
Golly don’t you wear it well?