Poetry Vol. IV

Happiness.

Is this a learned behavior, or one I’ve had since birth?

An inflated ego but contradictory self-worth.

You could grant me the keys, promise me freedom, but I would choose the cell.

I guess it’s true, I don’t wear Happiness well.

All this self-abuse, this torture, I call Growing Pains.

Culling any weakness, any kindness, that still remains.

And so, I willingly leave home from Heaven for a holiday in Hell.

God, I don’t wear Happiness well.

And I know you tried, you tried to give life to this husk.

You tried to find light in a soul which mirrors dusk.

But love, I see now, was just another temporary spell.

I’m sorry, I just don’t wear Happiness well.

- Adam J Marcon.

So Do I.

(Liar.)

The snow falls, and so do I

Backwards onto the bed

Alone, we explore our bodies, our beliefs

and those twisted thoughts inside your head.

The sun rises, and so I’ll try

To give you everything; my joy, my name, my life.

I’ll promise to be your husband if you promise to be my wife.

But the flowers wilt, and so does my

Sense of belonging and loyalty toward you

I fight it, deny it, but there’s nothing I can do.

Time passes, so please don’t try

To ignore the truth, we both knew all along,

To stay now would be dishonest, to feign love is wrong.

The heaven’s cry, and so do I.

I wish I knew where it went or why it had to go

I’d ask, but you’re gone now, so I guess we’ll never know

I’m sorry

But the dead lie, and so do I.

-Adam J Marcon

Still Me.

Even when striving for things I’m not sure I deserve,

            Feeling myself slipping, losing my nerve.

Even when burning inside a fire that I myself lit,

            Scaling the walls of this bottomless pit.

Even when suffocating on the honest words I know I can’t say,

Growing more impatient with each passing day.

And even when lying battered and broken beneath grey skies,

Drowning in all my little white lies.

I’m still me.

I’m still someone who tries.

-Adam J Marcon