THIS IS ME

What is happiness I ask you,
And there's no reply you can give,
Because you don't know the answer yourself.
It is strange what pain can do,
It is unnerving,yet it's nothing out of the ordinary.
It is what pain does,
It draws out emotions and sets them naked
Before hungry mocking eyes,
Which are only too ready to mock and abuse
Behind veils all the time,all the way,all the while.
I sit and I muse over half forgotten fairy tales,
Which ended in a nightmare.
I have woken up a long time ago,
Yes,the pain is now gone,
But what remains is perhaps what words cannot measure,
Something my soul cannot fathom,
Something which I cannot feel anymore,
Because there's nothing there.
On streets where lamps spread darkness instead of light,
I used to wander and without even realizing it,
I lost myself in an effort of self recognition.
Today,I should be happy
And maybe I am,don't you see,
I can put on the same derisive smile I used to hate once.
I have changed,I have grown in the matter of a few years
Into a ragged old man with a non existent heart,
And yet there's an effort to seek happiness,
Out of this mundane solitude that I am now a part of.
This cannot be real,this cannot be true,
Yet in front of my eyes my days go on,
And I tell myself that I should be happy.
Indeed,the storm has blown over
Leaving in its path a few scattered broken huts,
Which perhaps time shall make amends for.
Those huts will stand again to see the light of day,
But what of the life that now is gone,
Time cannot put broken shards together.
It can only put up an appearance of doing so.
In the end all that is left,
Is the mangled remains of a childhood,
Lost in bitterness and confusion,
The cacophony of life,a burden too great
For young shoulders to carry,
Give birth to a man after killing the child within.