Question It

I’ve been through Hell and back

A time or two or three.

But yet I’m always told to buck up.

It could be worse.

It will get

Better.

Better?

How could the void in my heart get better?

How can the sadness that I feel

Every day

And the darkness enveloping my soul

Ever get

Better?

It’s a state of mind, you say

But what if my mind is in a rotten state?

My life has been twisted into a maze of hurt

Pain and change

But you don’t understand, do you?

You

On your happy little hill of success

With a perfect family and a perfect life

Look down on me and my misery

My darkness

And tell me to

Be happy.

I can’t.

I try, but I can’t.

How could I,

When the world I live in

Is a constant ravage of war

Rape

Divorce

Abductions

Death.

What do I have to look forward to

When my world is tilted on its axis

At an angle jarring to my eyes

And good people are constantly

Barraged

With hardship and struggles

Mountains to climb

And no way to traverse them.

Excuse me for not believing in the happiness to come.

Did you ever question it?

I mean, truly

Question it.

Question why the supposed happiness

That we are constantly hunting for

Seems always just out of reach.

We are all so convinced that if we do the right things,

Pray hard enough,

Believe strongly enough,

Trust wholly enough,

We will find our happiness.

Did you ever stop to think,

What if the happiness that is said to come

Doesn’t arrive until you

Are as dead and gone

As your struggles?