Sadness awkwardly resides somewhere between the skin’s layers and the outsides.
It’s outside, like carolers in the winter or leaves in the fall,
outside; I mean like frosting on the donuts or listeners outside the call,
Depending on whose at home at all, they just may enter and throw themselves a ball.
Sadness in a sense, does the same, give or take some cents.
Add or subtract some emotional convictions, mental handcuffs or psychological tents.
My daughter’s sick and her mother’s well…
Fed up with my shit and work isn’t swell.
Everyday reminds me of an opportunity to dunk my soul in a well, the ones lacking the bucket draw hoist so I sink until only hell hears my voice.
My choice… Pro life or choice matters none to a person whose pain is still moist.
Mines isn’t, but there’s is.
I fear the day the Forces that be forces me out of the life of my wife and kids after I served in the Armed Forces.
Its that undeniable anguish provoked by thought that burns each individual rib.
I wish I could put all the Sadness to sleep for good, SIDS…
So we can love happily ever after and reattach the wings.
WHICH reminds me of the obvious, this life is consequently no fairytale,
especially from the perspective of a fairy’s tale.