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Happiness poem

Updated on April 9, 2012


Beauty was not my gift.

I was the smart one;

spouting facts

like an erupting

Geyser.

Quiet, alone with my

Books.

Content to wait

for my prince to find me

for someone to see me

as worthy to love,

but no one ever came.

The fairytales were wrong,

being good didn’t guarantee

Happiness.

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