The Man Who Never Smiled

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In all these years, I have met different types of people. Some were reserved yet amazing while some were free yet awful. I looked around and observed two major classes of people: One was carefree, convivial and flew high above, while the other was absolute, serene and down to earth. Both were good in their own ways, but their way of contemplating life was different. We all face merry and poignant news daily, but what we make of it makes us who we are.




The Man Who Never Smiled




Many came and many lost,
None could obliterate his wretched thoughts.
All day long he sat alone in his cage,
Seldom putting on a troubled visage.


He gazed out of the window,
To see imbeciles without a drop of sorrow.
' What makes them merry? ', thought he,
Corrupt, weak imposters with nothing to be!


So he reflected on what he had got,
Riches? Love? Not even hatred to rot!
A cursed world to look forward to?
Wasn't there anything to serve as clue?


One night he slumbered,
Appeared an apparition vaguely umber.
Something he whispered into his ear,
And vanished into the thin air.


Next morning he woke up-all his dear ones beside,
To ease onto him the poignant-he was to die.
' Perhaps I understand now', he smirked,
And that was the very moment he smiled.




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