Happiness does not live here
it merely visits.
If we're lucky it'll visit for a while.
When it's gone I'm alone.
I go into the dark.
Barely present each day.
I could be called a zombie,
they way I stare at nothing
for hours on end,
and they way I move
so slow as if
I'm wading through mud.
I look forward
to the visits from happiness.
They are random.
Lately, not so rare
but not often enough.
My world is as dark as the night sky,
until happiness brightens it up
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