A poem about happiness, and how some day, eventually, you will be happy. Although there will be days that seem hard, you will be happy.

Love can be a wicked game.

It was inevitable that it would all one day go up in smoke.

It is your problem.

A fatal error is the worst kind you can make.

My love was pure.

You should listen when alarm bells sound.

You always took but never gave anything back.

You can’t hide things in the closet forever.

I hate to see anybody cry.