Treading Water

Sometimes the good days are really good,

And I am the bad one.

I have this magic trick,

I can pull gloom out of a hat,

Give you a deck of cards and help you pick sadness.

I do not wear happiness well,

It fits me like a tight pair of jeans,

Two summers too small.

Melancholy, an oversized sweater I drown in,

Cocooned in the comfort.

Alice swam to the shore to escape her pain,

I choose to swim in it.

Wallowing is such a dreadful thing.

But even on the good days,

The really, really good days,

The best I can do is tread water.

– C

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