So why does it burn,
And sting in the darkness of night?
In my bed, I twist and turn
Reciting my regrets and fears
Like a sadistic poetry.

Sadness is a habit
I cultivated over time.
They told me to be sad
To be sorry, to bear the pain.
As if someone in pain is somehow good
Because happiness is shallow
There is depth in strain.

But then they needed me to be happy,
Not truly though,
Just on the surface.
Mysteriously brooding
Yet strong and smiling,
That’s what’s sexy,
That’s what’s admirable.
And I tried
And I succeeded
So why do I not feel like a success?



Photographer Unknown
© Copyright 2017, Niharika Jaiswal