I can think of a million reasons to be sad,
And I honour them all:
The suffering of innocents
The agony of the guilty
The death throes of this poisoned world.
(Yes! You HAVE to face it!)
There doesn't seem a lot of point to it all, to be frank.
No. None.
I could stop. Right there, except ...
Something rises up in me
Something light, and infectious
Like laughter, only, without sound.
Like joy, but somehow deeper,
If you know what I mean.
I shall, therefore, gallop through this day
With a smile.
A pointless, foolish,
Smile.
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