The Happy Happy Hope Poem Otherwise known as (The Hidden Truth Of I) I sit here in a room of others and yet I am all alone. I see their laughter, I feel their pain, observe their anguish and sorrow and yet…. Yet I feel disenchanted from them. Distanced in some way. Their open feelings of Remorse seem diminished when I look into my own cluttered sense of being. Yet I do not wish to give the impression of superiority in grief or dominance within depression. I just do not feel associated with these people and thusly their emotions which are spreading into the room and invading every space, like the onset of the morning sun, via the medium of their mouth are but alien occurrences to me - who has trapped all the pain and anger into a tight box. Pushed down the lid and tried to lock it tight, and hide it away deep down within my soul only now to find it seeping out. The melancholy explosion of heavy-hearted and deep rooted rotting sentiment that fills my being is cleverly hidden behind an engaging smile and a sentimental laugh. Little do they understand... They - the great masses - caring and yet uncaring. Superficial reality is permeating their lives as they try to ignore the harshness of what they believe to be true. Yes them. And me - Me who derives a sordid pleasure from the physically partially pre-meditated loneliness and the inescapable mental chasm of perpetuating isolation of the mind and soul. A soul twisted by angst which no-one around me knows or realises. Everything is great they say. Maybe I am wrong. Trapped within a very personal bubble of despair and breathing in all the deep-meaningful garbage which takes form in my mind and escapes through my fears. Taking me down lower and lower in a constant downward spiral of self-perpetuated decay. Maybe I am wrong. The hidden meanings are only in my twisted head and not there at all. Pretension could have taken over my thoughts becoming a powerful master. Maybe I was wrong and the depression is unnecessary. Maybe I was wrong. Perhaps I am a fool. Everything's great they say... But I could be the only one who sees the oblivion we are hurtling towards at an increasingly steady pace. The only one…Well being alone is nothing new, but us all going towards oblivion is wrong. None of this save the race stuff. Just me. Only I am going towards the end and I am picking up speed. Nothing can save me now. My happy thoughts died when I was five. Nothing can stop or save me now. Maybe I am wrong... Everything's great they say... Little do they understand... by Shred