what with happiness never knowing how to sort itself out,
it was a scattered sentiment to say the least,
often messy in its construction,
strewn about while it keeps its head above water,
distilled somewhat,
even fragmented at times,
and catastrophic in its demise,
I think I was lonely in my ambition,
that was all,
and loneliness was not a fostering feeling,
certainly not when it came to contentment
Maybe I took it for granted,
not having had it for so long,
not asking for it,
not getting it for myself,
maybe I knew not how to decipher such intricacies,
that was probably that
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