A Changing Mood Poem by George Price

Oh mankind be not happy
Do not let smiles tear
The fabric of self
For Hell tastes twice as bad
Once you have flown.

And just downstairs from where
I write they sit and laugh
I cannot stop to think.
They all despise and hate
My every living cell.

For who cares
Who wants the failed fraud
Who cannot think what next to write
But words of anger, hatred, greed.
Who truly thinks of little me?

You.
I think, I hope, I dream.
You, who cannot smile, but beam
Who brings the world alive
And, if Hell is twice, nay thrice, as bad for flight?

I would fly the last flight into agony
As Icarus knew
What point is flight
If you do not fly high?
High into the caring arms of this sunset.