Matika Pisha Poet Rhyme

Happiness: a memory

I feel like I remember
What better was,
But I can't see it
as clear as I see my flaws.

Yet there is proof.
In photos and videos,
a memory of who I am,
that feels like an echo.

Cause I can see it
past the clouds of gray,
That yes, in fact, there was
Such a thing as a good day.

Days where my thoughts
didn't always win.
Days where a negative magnet
didn't pull the positive from within.

I try to catch a glance,
forcing my way into that moment,
back when I wasn't saving energy
for my mind's endless torment.

I've entered every password
that used to work before.
All those “get better” tasks,
but they're not working anymore.

But I can't remember.
It doesn't matter how hard I try.
I'm locked out of my own system,
with an error code.

Telling me to die.

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Alison A Smith October 3, 2026 at 6:06 PM This is a powerful, sharply structured portrayal of depression as both distance and malfunction: happiness survives only as archival “proof,” while the self feels inaccessible in the present. The recurring technological language—passwords, systems, error codes—makes the final turn especially devastating, and the plain, spoken-rhyme cadence gives it an intimate, unfiltered force.