Too Many Broken People

When did pain become a norm?
Depression is clothing for young girls;
Trauma and Angst for the poet.
There’s light at the end of the tunnel,
but it belongs to the coming train.
Laughter is but mascara for the sad,
for deep down the heart’s den,
Suicide swiftly swings and sing lullabies
for it’s host to fall into everlasting sleep.
Is everyone and everything not broken after all?

Younglan Louis.