I'm trying to write something happy
although I don't feel that way
Something that will make another smile
although my lips won't make that shape
I guess I could write about clumsy kittens
or tell a story about me as a kid
I suppose a word with a well-meaning tone
is better medicine than one for the lone
Even though that is me
I'm a broken machine
with levers and pulleys
that can't grasp good things
whose hands let go
of the smiles and the jokes
to make way for the grey
and the slowness of days
You want to feel safe when you read my thoughts
you don't want to feel hopeless and lost and locked
behind the doors of my perceptions that have me trapped in
inside the feelings of destruction that won't let happiness begin
So for you I suppose I will write of the kittens
of their white socked paws and the way we're smitten
how they jump into boxes and look cute all the time
about their lives in our life, not ways they will die
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem