Sometimes the greatest parts
Of any day feel like
Tightly woven threads around
Your drowning heart;
A sharpened arrow
Pokes under your nerves,
And your mind knows of
No cure but to fall asleep.
Sometimes the best parts
Of any day look like
Your laughter curls under itself
While heavy foes roll it tighter;
A wilting flower
Is prettier than the picture
Of your morning.
But every day,
When a body refuses to
Feel the greatest,
When the view refuses to
Look the best,
Your festering blues learn to
Appreciate the flowers
Later
When they are tall and yellow.