Dissipating for an Anon: The Illusion of Happiness

I found myself embellished– 

embellished by the beautified theory of happiness. 

Happiness is just but a fraudulent make-belief emotion 

reposing lifetimes to procure. 

It’s an artificial phenomenon

manufactured to sedate the anguish of a sad man’s reality. 

When would one reach the calamity of happiness? 

Man yearns for a cure. 

One allowing the heart to pump. 

The lungs to breathe. 

The soul to heal. 

To anticipate the presence of dawn. 

Have the O’mighty lords of creation become insensible? 

To ensoul ambling remains of dust 

dissipating for an anon of a fictitious belief– happiness. 

In God I bestow my trust, 

my anguish, my hurt

to live another dawn.

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