I don’t know about the laughter anymore.

It comes and goes, and the
feeling remains the same.

Joy, such a punch drunk heathen,
spitting its flourishes and
dimes,
and it all sounds so ****
pretty;

And then I fall into my
certain dark pool with no bottom,
and
here I swim along with my
fading dreams.

Too long it takes to reach the
shore,
too long it takes to
discover this hell
is
a
gem in the dust.

I sit still in my chair
and wait for the songbirds
to begin,

I long for their company,
their song,
their joy,
and
I ask if they would be
kind enough
to share.

And they do,
and the sun peers rightfully
through the storm
and
the chorus speaks of
better days
and i trust
these song birds
more than
the bottles
because
they’ve
seen what it takes
to wake up everyday
and
live in harmony
with
darkness.