Joy of Life

Joy of Life
Locked tightly in a jar
Placed on the highest shelf
Reach for it
I am
Too small


Joy and Happiness

Who is this Joy? And why does she always hang around Happiness? They leave when I come and go someplace else. Far away. Out of sight. Out of mind. Out of reach. I want to embrace them but I guess they’re afraid to be touched by strangers. I can perfectly understand that.

Every day I see Beautiful. She never crosses my path. Doesn’t say “Hello”. Doesn’t even look at me. No more. Someone must have taught her not to talk to strangers. Anymore. The burnt child dreads the fire, they say. My candle burnt out long ago.

Sometimes I feel like another me. An alternate version: “Me 2.0”. Already released but still full of bugs. Wearing nothing on my sleeve, still giving everything away. A dead shell dangling from a hangman’s noose. No longer alive but not dead either. Trapped between pity and contempt. Cut me down. Bury me. I’d be better off wasted. I am fading…


Any thoughts you’d like to share?