The Ugly Face of Happiness
Happiness is a wretched prostitute;
in fancy clothes and a painted face
Her seduction is old… oh so very old;
but it tastes fresh on the lips of desire
Happiness is the sprinkled coloured dust;
on the wings of a summer butterfly
The colours seem eternally captivating;
but they fade within the grasp of greedy fingers
Happiness is a deceptive illusion;
preserved within the frozen moments
The illusion seems perfectly alluring;
but it shatters in the presence of logic
Happiness is a vulture sitting atop the tree of life;
disguised as a bird of the paradise
The brilliance of its colours blinds the eyes;
but its greedy heart betrays its beauty