Cut and Dry

It’s cut and dry. Blood is like glue
That flows in clots beneath our skin,
Spreading out like sunlight, glistening through
The aqua valleys of our veins within.

I trace the trenches of these scars,
This is how pain leaves its mark,
Misery is longer lasting by far
Than happiness, which fades into the dark,
And smiles forced to hide beneath disdain:
Society frowns on anything but frowns.
Smiles are magnets, attracting the stares
Of all your fellow walkers through this town.

So I feel like an enemy agent
If I feel anything but despair,
Smothered and starting to ferment
In the inky cloak that I wear.

So cut and paste me on a different background
Where I don’t have to be gloomy just to survive,
Colour me another shade and let hope surround
Me each time self-esteem takes a dive,
Let blood be glue to hold me steady in a strong position,
And hold me high when I threaten to sag,
Take me where joy is not a deadly mission,
I need it to be cut and dry. Fasten a different tag
Onto my luggage. Send me on my way
Through a tunnel that ends in light, not yet more shades of grey.