In all seriousness
I don’t know how I feel
There is something everyone experiences
That seems to me to not be so real.
How can there be so much happiness,
When many lives are in a mess.
How can there be so many celebrations,
When we’re all nothing but this world’s very own sick patients.
‘Tis the season to be jolly!
We make it so and deck the halls with boughs of holly.
Nobody seems to searching hard enough,
We only mask it up and drink down some hard stuff.
If it pleases the one who created me,
Let me know what greater place this world may be.
Let us mass produce true happiness,
Not simply material things that brings a lot of stress.