My father was an extreme poet. He nearly wrote one every single day. I think it was his way of getting away from the world for a little bit. When he died last summer he left all the poems for us. We hadn't really seen them. Mostly all sprawled onto small pieces of paper. Never in a notebook. They came and they went and he had to jot them down before he lost them.
Today I'm going to share the last one he wrote.
I am happy, I am happy,
My bones have grown brittle,
My body used to its full potential,
Heather lays with me, we are the definition of love,
I will never lose Heather, we will enter the heavenly gates together,
I am sad, I am sad,
For the people who don't see happiness,
The world doesn't have happiness anymore,
People snap photographs instead of enjoying the happiness,
People don't view, hear, or smell,
The happiness is gone,
Most have forgot about the good lord,
I pray they learn before they pass,
for an eternal hell will be a fearsome battle,
I will soon be with everyone lost,
I will soon be rewarded for my sacrifices,
I am happy, I am happy,