A happy poem
Or: A sad poem I stopped writing before it got sad
My wallet is full of coupons,
ones that I've won to places I like.
My shoes, though they may look ratty,
prove that I've recently been on a hike.
My palms are full of scars,
That all tell their own stories.
My pockets hold tickets
That all tell their own truths.
These stains that you see,
They aren't accidental.
Each one was picked with utmost care.
These friends that you see,
They are coincidental,
Each one special, unique, and rare.
My life, though it is patchwork,
Is nobody's patchwork other than mine.
All this work that you see?
I stitched every detail, every line.
I live a life that makes me happy,
I sing songs I like to hear.
And I do all of the things
That make me grin from ear to ear.