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It’s easier to laugh than to cry,
It’s easier to confess than to lie.
It’s harder to talk when you’re sad,
It’s awful when they’re glum but you’re glad.
Confidence is worse than money,
Sans it you’re not happy, sad or funny.
You feel like you’ve lost all you’ve had,
You think all you’ve done is a dead fad.
Your head hangs down in shame,
For reasons no one but you can claim.
Your mood has suddenly turned morose,
Rejoices vanished and only visible are sorrows.
Why have I only seen what’s wrong around me,
Why can’t I forget it and let it be?
Why is my anger annoying you?
Because you know I can’t be what you can do.
You know this pessimism isn’t from birth,
You know I used to be filled with mirth.
Is it teenage hormones making me suffer,
Or is it grief I just can’t buffer?
Am I weak in my mind and heart,
Or am I just not too smart?
These questions can be answered only by time,
Or at a period when I am sublime.
Such epochs come very rarely,
And stay rather barely.
My attitude I’m beginning to hate,
I pray for a change of fate.
Much I’ve had of hating myself,
Won’t I be shattered with dislike from thyself?
All I need is your encouragement whenever possible,
With words loving, caring and plausible.
Dissuasion can only kill me,
And with boredom like this it’ll fill me.
I have no reason to repent I think.
But I see a hundred the next blink.