Her every day is a mini-tragedy
Each one bringing fresh agony.
Life's an endless trial.
I can make her smile
but can't lift her from her misery.
She's held hostage to a sad history.
I guess it's my job to bear witness.
Harder than she knows to understand this.
Trade silver-lined clouds for twisters,
The ability to be happy missed her.
I don't think things are as hard as she makes it,
How can existence make your mind split?
It almost makes her happy to be down,
Almost grin to be a martyr without sound.
No point to tell her things with get better,
Those words to her have the weight of a feather.
She believes she'll always be sad,
As it slowly drives her mad.
His every day is a mini-tragedy
Each one bringing fresh agony.
Life's an endless trial.
I can make him smile
but can't lift him from his misery.
He's held hostage to a sad history.
I guess it's my job to bear witness.
Harder than he knows to understand this.
Careening from one crisis to the next,
Sorrow his only context.
I try to say things aren't so bad,
But he gives me a look that says I've been had.
Too young to look through a glass so dark,
And see joy as such a faint spark.
Few I've met so bitter, so filled with cold
Sometimes the pessimism makes him seem so old.
It'd be nice to see your spirits high,
If only once before you age and die.
So I bear witness to everything they say,
Wishing they could see things another way.
Despite this I love them so,
If only they could let their unhappiness go.
-srw
