Wake up, work, sleep ,repeat, all with sprinkles of joy and pain, with a warm cozy rain of happy or sad tears, with merry lights or dim fears, fun affairs or broken dreams,
or we could all just be clad in jolly in an act of sheer folly.
Happy wards away the sad, they say, happy can't be just a facade for you to use and abuse whenever you've burned out your fuse.
We put faith in the divine,
just to be assured that he would act benign when endless streams of requests call for the same effects on the watered down psyche that tells us to always act high and mighty.
What happened to indulging in the melancholy, the nostalgia of the burned out nights, the cloudless starry sky, we no longer try to endure what brought the beauty of a rose's thorn,
the small drop of blood that coated every idea that was born.
Jolly I sit and watch in awe as all the memories unfold, refold and die, never to be wanted again, because pain is no longer a motivation,
because all the monochrome reminders of darker days are painted over with false hopes and happy endings that never come...
I'm jolly with the sight of my last painful memory, I'm jolly with seeing the tears, I'm happy that they fell upon my desk, I'm happy that they kept falling for hours, I'm jolly.