Something “happy”

I write in red sharpie

What the world know as something happy.

There is shapes poisoning this clean white paper,

Covering my message in a thick red vapor.

This feeling is a disease,

More than something wonderful.

An illness that makes you feel light and colorful.

This four letter word makes the world go round,

But yet keeps us all on the ground.

They say it can’t be kept for a long time,

A thing like this won’t stay, for it’s too fine.

I see it as a dove flying,

I know I must catch it; nothing is going to stop me from trying