Happiness Or Bust

Is anybody truly happy? Or, do they merely settle for content? How is happiness even measured? What does it's presence represent? I spent the day silently walking looking at displays of happiness. I couldn't tell who was balking, or who had the most over less. I feel guilty when I'm quiet. I get quieter every season. Others think I'm dejected. I'm relieved over self treason. I thought I had an idea. What it was to be the man. I grew older and broken. My truth had a different plan. I fought and I struggled. I didn't want to be the guy who quit. I gritted my teeth as I knuckled. My mind was rift. I had to split. I'm proud but I am scared. I'm calmer but feel unprepared. What if I've erred when god comes to see how I've faired? I'm stepping out blindly. I'm happy though my face betrays. I'm just lost without a map. But these have been the brightest days. I'm coming for you happiness An intangible flavor to savor. I'll find you because I have less. Freedom has proven my saviour. -Angel Fatale-