Happiness is the silence in the lunchroom
It's the tears they all cried
Happiness is the note at her side
It's the fears that were confirmed that night
Happiness is the tear stains in her eyes.
Happiness is the conversations in class
It's the jealousy she held
Happiness is the pressure she felt
It's crying in his arms with her tears welled
Happiness is telling him "everything's fine."
Happiness is the gun in his hand
It's her wrists slashed to the bone
Happiness is permanently going home
It's wanting to be alone
Happiness is the rope coiled around her neck tight.
Our views of happiness are distorted
they are all conceited
Our ways of coping are defeated
only by the words, we are mistreated
Our views are altogether frightening.
Happiness can often be faked
It's told in the similes of others around me
Happiness used to be seen in me
Until I found a way to feel, to be
Happiness can be told by the bottle left dry.
Happiness is hating yourself
It's rather variable, I assure you
Happiness can be anything you choose
It can never be one thing true
Happiness can also mean hating life.