An idea

A smooth,
Untouched,
Piece of paper.
Is transformed
Into something
Extraordinary.
When, it is
Folded.
The paper plane,
Flies to the
Skies.
Carelessly
Happy.
Carelessly
Free.

The wind,
The cruel wind,
Tries to
Break it apart.
Beat it down.
But, it sings merrily,
Goes on its way.
It perseveres.
Hoping to be real.
Hoping to be divine.
It carries on,
In tune with gravity.
And love,
And harmony.

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Happiness

Lemme tell you a little something,
About this thing called happiness.
It feels unimaginably amazing.

        It makes your heart and soul sing,
        And cleans all your mess.
        It feels infinitely confining.

But if ya base it off the inconsequential,
It’ll leave a deep, sad stain on you,
And lessen your extraordinary potential.

     You gotta figure out what’s essential,
     Make time for the prettiest hues,
     And stop thinking of the existential.

I know it’s not that easy.
They kinda gnaw at you don’t they?
The scars, the constant reminder.

       They’re just so addictively queasy.
       Your poking leaves them on display.
       And your thoughts simply concur.

You just have to stop thinking.
Your thoughts must be prettily dressed.
And so, you’ll finally end your suffering.