Ode To Joy

I will not tell a story of fake laughter
And fake smiles;
I laugh and smile because I can and want to,
But in times like this,
What is there left to smile and laugh about?

A lightbulb with no filament.
The lights are off
The candle is gone.

Let us live, laugh and love
And look beyond the clouds that announce the storm
And the bad omens
And let us be grateful

For our emptiness
Our meaninglessness
Our egos and our selfishness.

This is an ode to us.
An ode for us,
Our dead flowers
And our inevitable death.

This is for those who chose how to live
And how to die
And how to leave their mark behind

For those like me who dared to take the step
And for some reason it did not work;
For those like me who are still trying to figure out
How come it did not work.
This is and ode to those who live.

To the river flowing in our veins
And the blood flowing in our rivers.

To the motherly figure smothered in lies
And the fatherly figure you do not want nearby.

This is for your prayers and your blessings.
I say I do not need them nor I want them,
For which God could save us now?

This goes for our double standards
And our fake morals
For naked girls and singing neighbours
And summer breaks that appear endless
For the smell of cigarettes
And a last wish before we die
The scent of alcohol
And saying we are just fine
The song we hate, you and I
For the comma in the middle of a sentence
For this phrase
For injustice
For murder
For death
For those who live alliterative lives
With no spaces
No line breaks
No punctuation
No contractions

For a life without shortcuts
And for those who would never take the long way.

For the rich
For the Good Guy who does not need this

For medicines and therapy
And a page from a Sylvia Plath book.
For studying bees and keeping clothes
Hanging from your closet, limp as fish.

For the Starry Night
And the smell of teen spirit

For the Club of the 27
And the white lighter in my pocket
And some furtive glances
And the bits of skin that stuck back together
After being through manyy nights like this.

This is an ode for those who live until their 30s
And still want to see what is yet to come.

Here is to dark jokes I can not share
Although I do not know someone who would care.

To the designer
And the great chef;
To our curiosity
And our need to know
How come it did work out for them.

This is for me and for you.
Because if I am one, then we are two.

At last, for the ones who spend their
Time
Writing about this life
Despite being the only reason why
There is nothing left to smile
Or laugh about.

For tears and pain
In our body and in our souls
And a temporary band-aid
That will not fix the bullet hole.

This is an ode for me
And for those in whose behalf I talk.
I am us,
Though I would rather believe in solopsism

This is an ode to happiness
This is an ode to freedom
This is an ode to life
To sadness
Imprisonment
Oblivion

And an ode for those who know
That Time moves on
And on
And on
And on