Never have I ever
Lied to myself.
My sadness beams,
And I still get up
For my morning tea.
I won’t let a sad pond
Be just a pool of water.
I will create waves
Or appreciate my waiting
Beside that pond.
I am appreciating,
Let this word hit you.
Words are so alive
Like my happiness—
After I express only
An ounce of sadness.
Only as I spell sadness
I get a relief from it,
Writing makes me
A believer,
The game of sadness
Becomes a thin clothesline
With clean clothes of happiness.
Worn out jeans is a fashion
And my sadness is an outfit.
.
© Sushant Thapa
Biratnagar-13, Nepal
Picture Nick Victor
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