usual novelty

a simple glimpse of joy,
and pointless bitterness fills.

why do we put up with ourselves
repeating everything that hurts,
to say, its the end, and fall weak to comfort,
to crumble at the sight of solace.
we cover our pain with a cloud of denial
for what? to linger on a past that is past?
to pretend that the world will stop for your sake
while we are moving past you?
is that worth the trouble for a pinch?
reality shows you that you aren't in deep slumber,
or would you rather live in a world where pain
is just is word?
you want the hugs and kisses,
but not the pain and affliction?
where have you been living all your life?

'we choose which paths to take,
but we can't change the path we are on.'