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me
why does happiness have such a soundless presence
sneaking in ever so quietly
but leaving before I could say goodbye
but its absence leaves no room for me to hear anything else
did it know that if I had the chance, I wouldn’t let go?
that if I knew it, I would never look again?
that if I had it, I wouldn’t be me?
that though I beg for its return, i know
with happiness, i wouldn’t be me?
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I'm exploring the grounds of poetry. Getting inspiration from the oldest and most famous poets down to those whose poems stay in their notebooks, I let my poem escape my notes app!