I had no recollection of what happiness tasted like on my tongue, many said it was tragically Beautiful. My sadness doubled as I realized how people glorified my pain. People didn't realize that sadness only held me a hostage, and that it didn't comfort me. It made me feel miserable to the one point where I couldn't breathe. Sadness was like the lump of iron stuck in my throat, and I couldn't get it out no matter how much I tried to. The emotions always dripped out of my eyes late night, like medicine driped from the I.V. Sadness wasn't something I could get ahold of, It was something which got ahold of me instead.
I told Someone, about the pain, that's all over, the horrid pain which never left my veins, which just pumped through my heart and went all around in my veins, which contaminated my veins
but, but none succeded to save me from this inevitable pain, Death always taunted me but none cared enough to save me from this self hate. My bed made of broken glass, where nightmares stay and daydreams pass. I started drawing on the canvas, after months I couldn't feel the brush in my hand, I stare down at my body, my sounds has turned red but the agony in my veins is still inside of this body. It's been several years, And till date, it's still running through my veins but I've got used to it.
So you have no right to think my sadness is anything but tragic.