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Happiness
She often wondered,
Sometimes quietly
At times out loud,
When would it be
Her turn for
Happiness,
Now and then
It seemed
Happiness
came
Knocking,
Even pounding
Wildly on her door,
But she never
Answered,
Perhaps she knew
That happiness
Isn’t out there,
That it rides inside
Waiting for one
To decide how
And when,
And yet, at times,
It was as if
She was stuck in a
Gothic song track,
Her unhappiness
Her happiness.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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