Isn't it ironic?

Life's full of disappointments,

And contradictions

I cannot complain.

I have had my share of luck,

Joy and happiness.

But Isn't it the good

That makes the bad even worse?

Unbearable, even?

Having a taste of

Happiness makes every

Other moment hurt.

There was a time when

Pure joy threatened to control

And overwhelm me.

But it could not last.

That was then, and this is now.

It wasn't a shock.

At first the pain stung,

Like salt in the open wound.

Now there is nothing.

Only exhaustion,

A dull feeling of fatigue

An old memory.

Will I always feel,

So tired? Of course I won't.

Joy will come again.

But will it ever last?

The answer to that question,

I already know.