The Worst Thing Ever
Happiness never enjoys solid ground.
When it begins to grow tired, it moves
To another district, a new name, a bigger salary.
Happiness does not care about you.
You're simply along for the ride.
This is not the worst thing ever.
The "the worst thing ever" is the name of this poem.
The logic of this poem is embedded
In babbling brooks all across this country.
To find it you must go to a brook, and sit.
An activity which just happens to be
The best thing ever.
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