On Happiness

That thing, that is a thing, that is fleeting.
We should call it contentment
Bred from understanding of the condition of living
To not resent it
Not be surprised at it
To know what living is
To know how the human operates in their many forms
To understand the resistance of man towards your contentment, they dispise seeing one of their own achieve it
They look down upon it as the condition of a fool
But to understand these things is what wills the skin to not break under the withering of the discontented
Look further inward
Understand oneselves condition
Understand that they may not know how their own discordance effects themselves and beyond
Resist all of the pains
Find a way out of them
Not towards numbing pleasure that will return you when the numbing wears off
But what truly removes you from the pain, long-lasting.
The ones you love
The ones you cherish
The ones that are good yet can not relieve themselves from the pain of their living, from their discontentment
If you relinquish them from your life, there will truly only be loneliness
So understand
Be there for them in their better dispositions
But all pains truly lasting are to be resisted
That in tandum with understanding ones true position, is when contentedness is ripe to walk through the door
And allow the fleeting moments of happiness, too, to be let in

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