I can tell that happiness never really liked me nor favoured me
I guess happiness has its people
But I cannot tell who they are
because I do not know how to differentiate myself from them
It is not because I always saw myself with the eyes of dirt
Happiness has got nothing to do with dirt
Because even people who look at themselves with eyes of dirt
Are as happier as ever
I mean, like, I can be as clean and bright as a diamond ring
But still, happiness would never even stand 5 metres near me
See, what I mean when I say happiness never really liked me
But what if happiness is afraid of me?
Yet I here think that it doesn’t like a bit of me
I mean, it’s possible, right?
Or am I just thinking out loud?
See, I seem to measure myself with all kinds of things that seem more suitable.
Then reached some mis-conclusion about myself.
I guess it’s safer to say I never got time to learn what happiness is.