I don’t want to be sad, but it always finds the edge of my cover and pull it off, making me vulnerable.

I hide every inch of my feelings from it, buried in secret, neither to be found nor to be discovered.

Am I too rude to accept it or too weak to deny it?

I don’t want to be sad, but it always finds my weak points and pins them on the wall with its hardest shot.

I have dried out all my tears under the sun of my burning past, yet it remains stifling here, difficult to breathe.

Am I casually ignoring the thorns or too blinded by flowers?

I don’t want to be sad, but it has its own ways of knocking the door and coming back without warning.

Running away isn’t helping, and smiling under the collars isn’t any easier. The sun rises and dips down, bringing new hopes and taking away every bit of reason to live any more.

Should I be more careful with my choices, or is it my destiny to smile no matter the suffering?

I don’t want to be sad, but the knives are sharp for it, with every reason to slit open my veins to eternity and bleed out all the pain that causes less happiness.

Just trying out the living, changing clothes till it passes to the next phase.

Is it me that is not acceptable, or is it people who don’t understand what’s happening?

I don’t want to be sad…