Fear is a kind of madness, I believe

The devils bloom, I call it.

Like a festival of false insecurities,

In which misery twirls ever so gracefully.

It twirls and dances , till

I tell my thoughts to resign

It works are like anchors.

You are responsible for your happiness, they said.

Oh but the chore of it.

I dinned with regret,

It was just a fling,

It kisses were anything but.

Then happiness said ‘hi’,

Ahh, to flirt with perfection

I like it here.

I might stay.