the world lives inside me
(ask any Buddhist worth her salt)
because I am unhappy
the world is unhappy
the trees, made sick by june
offer up a department store xmas
cheap with gaudy cherries
they deck their grief
in a hysteria of blossom
they’ve closed their hearts to
the man walking hand in hand
with his one true love
even he can’t raise a smile:
the world lives inside me
and because i am unhappy
it is unhappy.
do the world a favour
make me happy again

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