I have become very stressed.
The days take a toll
on my mind that has no matter,
but my body –
I have a split of
Two parts that oppose the other.
Two parts that wish not to get along.
Not at all will they be in harmony.
They stay separate.
The mind is also an oppositional playground.
Of three parts that divvy up to the neocortex, limbic, and reptilian.
One is concerned with higher thought,
One with emotions and the irrational,
and one is of the base functions.
They contradict each other in what they want.
They dissuade the other to give up.
On the things that would possibly make this troubled one
happy. But what is happy?
Happy is some idealistic state.
An emotion with an expiry date on it.
It never lasts, only comes fleetingly,
lovingly, painfully at a cost that is
paved with loss.
Pyrrhic in a way is happiness.
Pyrrhic is the emotion that I wish for.
I cannot have this.
Never will I embrace it to keep
for a jaunt, a skip, a short moment.
I wish only that sometimes that I could feel
Joy, but that isn’t possible.
My suffering is the happiness of others.
Who regularly delight in another’s
malchance, fall, stumble, and
I have become very stressed,
indeed. I haven’t the foggiest
to how to escape this cyclic
repitition of this opposite realm
of happiness. I drag it with me
like a tire tied to my thick waist.
It entraps me, weighs me down.
Yet I still move. Somehow I do.
But you will never know what I
face, for my mind is always sealed
from your unknowing eye, that
will remain as always, so blissfully