Bottled Pain
She smiles when she's sad,
Laughs when its bad,
Bottled pain;
To drive you mad,
She waves hello,
A true delight,
Reads Thoreau,
And always polite,
She laughs at every joke,
Listens to their woes,
Words which should choke,
She swallow with a pinch of her nose,
She's the shoulder in which to lean,
The ear in which to tell,
No one asks how she's been,
No one asks if she's well,
If they had,
There'd be no point,
It'd only make them feel bad,
And their solution is a joint,
So,
She smiles when she's sad,
Laughs when it's bad,
Oh, The bottled pain;
To drive you mad.
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