I wonder if we were all born with the same capacity to be happy

If we wake up one morning and decide

that happiness is for chumps and I, my friend, am no chump

If the sun rises for the just as well as those less fortunate

If the planet is sufficiently corpulent to maintain us all

If my love is supposed to stay strong or

If it should die and

leave a scar on my heart

Like a lobotomy on different lobes

Half of me still holds on, thank god it's not the living part

I hate thinking that it'll beat on

unaided and unrequited

Survive and thrive

Preserve and repair

Heal and protect me from the descent of the stifling enclosure of the future

Heaven knows I can live through hell fire but

Stars, how will I live like this?

I know, I'm dramatic and I hate it but hear me out

There's nothing out there for me

Not peace or adventure or simplicity or even a disguise

because the sun won't rise anymore

Huh.

Maybe it will.

I just won't know it.