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Literature Text
Happiness is a lie
etched upon a rusting pipe
by a sociopath determined
to destroy us all.
etched upon a rusting pipe
by a sociopath determined
to destroy us all.
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We spend so much time searching for happiness that we end up wearing ourselves thin; We are pale and fragmented, making the attainment of this concept of happiness our life-dream. When we realise we can never be truly happy, maybe then we can move forward to a better life. Too many people expect a life of love and joy with minimal trial or pain; It may be better to just accept that we will always be fractured, and strive for contentment within that.
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I swear I'm not high.
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I swear I'm not high.
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Comments15
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I always thought that happiness was hot pomme frites.
Putting on warm socks fresh the dryer.
A child laughing for no reason at all.
Being loved in return by the one you love.
However, I must think...
I am my own sociopath.
Putting on warm socks fresh the dryer.
A child laughing for no reason at all.
Being loved in return by the one you love.
However, I must think...
I am my own sociopath.