The Myth of Happiness
She bows her head in utter shame,
As once again she realises that they’ll never know her name,
Because she’s not significant enough to be remembered.
Strolling down the same old shattered walkway,
She struggles to recall the happy day,
When her heart didn’t plummet to the daring ground everytime she smiled.
The terrifying nightmare never ends,
As she attempts so hard to try to amend,
The damaged parts of her being that she hauls behind her.
Nobody sees the scars that she buries deep under cotton cloth,
They just stand and stare as her legs once again begin to froth,
As the blood slowly drips from them hitting every tile of the floor below.
They never expected her story to end in such a devastating way,
But they couldn’t master the understanding of the battle she faced everyday,
As she planted a smile for the woeful world to see.
You see, her life was over before it began,
All she prayed for was for somebody that sang,
The myth of happiness.
As she slowly lowered and rested her head below the headstone,
Her being filled with piece and reached every little bone,
And she finally felt the happiness that she never believed was reality.
Copyright © Bethany Tomlinson | Year Posted 2021
|