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What is joy?
My interpretation of happiness,
Wrong from the start,
My attempts at joy are always like,
Arrows to my heart.
Why do I feel so scared?
I'm sad and don't know what to do,
I'm looking for someone to love,
But I don't know who.
I wish it was just simple,
That I could just follow a map,
Because to find who I want,
Is more than a few laps.
Forever searching,
It's killing me please,
Any chance for this to end,
Any chance I'll seize.

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This article has 4 comments.
tho right now some of my poems are too real.
do you have a curse? mines someday.(this is just a writing thing explaining what I mean. you don't have to read it)
Dreams are what make us who we are. But mine is a curse. My dream lies in my affliction, in the someday. The someday that consumes me when I a at my lowest, saddest. The someday that lies to me and poisons my thought and pushes me for nothing when I have nothing left.
The someday is what I cling to. It destroys me. I hate it, I love it, I fear it. But ultimitly, theres nothing I can do. I can't rid myself of it. I can't accept it. Maybe if I were to be free of it, I would fade away into nothingness. It's become my identity.
If my dreams are in someday, I hate them. If dreams make us who we are, then I am nothing. I’m a shell. Worst, I guess i've accepted that. I don't believe in the dreams, or hope, or someday. All I can believe is never. But maybe someday...
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Favorite Quote:
There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature—the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter. —Rachel Carson