The Dawn Of My Happines Poem by Paris Thulare

Here i am with rethoric questions racing in me everyday,
It's festive now, everyone is out to see their mothers and fathers,
what about me Lord?

They are out there jollying everywhere with words of praises,
But who's praising me now?
Who is comfortingme when ice age revists the life of me?

That last time I sawMommy,
I was a toddler, so is Father in my ages of embryo,
I never felt the presents of my old man,
I'm being told stories he was like I am,
But wearing such belief is poking Eminem.

I'm out searching for hope here and there,
But its never enough,
Hapiness is my enemy.
At worst I'm being given names,
with fingers poking me to the center of hatred.
Why didn't you give them such chance to see me flourishing.

It is useless I'm telling you, to have all this wonderful materialistic things but Momma isn't here to approve these that I accomplished.I
'm all here fed up all day with tears rolling my eyes and there isn't a soul to comfort me,
ohh dear Death, You are heartless.