Second Draft. (very bad poetry)

Happiness is a choice,

You don't have to have it, but it is an option.

Most people like to be happy,

I don't know why.

Is it because of the way it looks?

It looks appealing to the eye.

A smile is a warm thing,

Brings tender feelings into the soul.

Is it because of the way it feels?

I've felt it before,

It's addicting.

But sometimes, too much. 

Which is it?

The outward appearance,

Or the way it feels inside?

Someday I'll know. 

Very Bad Poetry

Essentials:

Like a keybored types, another walks. 

It is the button to a knew tomorrow.

I Love the click, click, click, clicking sound. 

It files me with much joy.

Paper is the key.

The key to the knew tomorrow.

You must have it to make it work.

Without the paper, it is nothing.

Not something.

Not a king.

Not some bling. 

Perhaps a sting.

But nothing.

The paper is essential. 

The paper. 

Impulse

W-Hey Charlie.
M- Hi, it's good to see you.
W- Did I come in time?
M- I think so, we'll have to hurry though.
W- Okay.
M- Dad's having a hard time, after all, she's been sick for weeks.
W- I should've come earlier.
M- It's okay, you didn't know.
W- She never told me she was That sick. Always said it was a cold.
M- We're just glad you're here now, you did seem to be her favorite twin.
W- Ha ha. She loves both of us.
M- Sure.
W- Where's the car?
M- Down this way. It should only take a few minutes to get home.
W- Just like old times.
M- Of course.
W- So do you like living out here?
M- I do. It's been really good, especially being near mom and dad.
W- I bet.
M- And how's the big city?
W- Big, but I enjoy it.
M- Cool, cool.
W- Who's out on the porch, there?
M- Oh that's dad. You really haven't been home for a while.
W- No, I haven't. I'm going to get out here and say hi.
W- Hi dad.
D(dad)- You're too late. She's gone..