Reaching At My Personal Goth

He sits on the edge of a skyscraper

And he’s alone

He wants to be alone

But he’s not alone

She’s with him

And he’s happy

He wants to be happy

But then again

He doesn’t

That would kill the fire

Through his shadowed clothes

He wants to smile

A crazy, tortured smile

But a smile.

They’re together.

And so am I with her.

But the question lingers

A pure glimmer in a pit of coal

Do I want to be happy?

The answer…was always there.