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de Root

I'm learning the anxiety of happiness
It seemed deceitful long ago, but words of praise urge to birth
A harbinger of butterfly flight

Glory of spite, delight of blood
Happiness of happy, go luckiest and the forever mute
Of strong only in beauty and vulnerability
Living in the sorrow of their souls

I come across happiness
Without looking for it
Lost in the bottom of bitterness
In the garden of faded flowers

I'm listening to the whispering of voices
About the blossomed solitude of abandoned eyes
Solitude agitates my heart

I will no longer, may be when I wake up

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