You think you are happy
the voice would say
beneath the bone of your brow

With one click of a switch
your world sickens
pleasure turned to pain
memories betrayed
happy places made forlorn
joy smeared with shadow and ash

How do you like it now?

The solitary seed of a melancholy thistle
has blown in
time out of mind

Taken root uninvited
hidden on the verge
of this forgotten memory

Don't engage it
don't detain it
let it flower and bloom
welcome the wispy thistledown
and blow it safely away.