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Monday, June 25, 2012

The Key to Happiness/ Storylines

The Key to Happiness

If there is no key,

Mother Theresa once said;

the door is always open

for happiness, wondering in my head,

I love the sentiment

and how it could be,

but maybe, just maybe

it has passed over me.

My heart has been closed,

the key has been lost;

or so it has seemed

that my heart has been tossed.

Yet, there is a glimmer of hope,

the door has not been found--

happiness sometimes looms

when despair does not pound.

So maybe Mother Theresa is right,

there is no key,

the door is always open,

you just have to be willing to see.

What I was going to write:

Look to my arm, she once said,

red lines against her white skin,

gather around my children

and take the story in.

I know you wonder

and they might scare you,

but there is a story,

you might have it too.

I was 19, just dumped,


in depression I stopped

What I settled on:


Look to my arm, she once said,

red lines against her skin;

there is always a story

just stop and take it in.

She was about 19,

depression ate her;

gaunt, her bones showed,

and growing was light fur.

She was exactly 21,

there was a name;

though painful,

it kept her tame.

Her small figure

quickly changed,

screams and tears,

97 to 150 range.

Her skin stretched and pocked,

but she is healthy, they said,

the stupid pills made her ugly

and it went to her head.

She tried to cut it away,

she tried and she tried,

only was there another condition,

frustration and more cries.

She was close to 23,

the redness pales,

to onlookers it's frightening;

behind it lies a tale.

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