Friday Poetry: "Piggy Banks & Happiness"

Hello lovelies! Here is a small poem about money, or something of the sort. A little longer than usual, but I do hope you enjoy it. xx

Piggy Banks & Happiness

sitting on my shelf is a piggy bank.

it is faded and chipped, this piggy bank of mine;
there is a thin crack running through it
from that time when I was five years old
and I decided it would be a fine idea
to drop it on the ground and watch the money
come spilling out

but it is empty now—has been for years and years,
ever since I first discovered bank accounts
and I can’t help but wonder if there is such a thing
as bank accounts for the soul.

I can’t help but wonder if there is an elusive place
where all the happiness is hidden
and where I might go to borrow some
so I can be like all the other people
who do not have to ration their laughter like I do
for fear that it will all run out one day
and then they will be left alone in the darkness
with no spare happiness to pull out of their pockets

I can’t help but wonder if all the other people
have piggy banks that are full of
singing ringing coins of laughter
or if the smiles that come so easily to their faces
are finite, just like mine turned out to be

I can’t help but wonder if I am the only one in the world
wandering around with an empty piggy bank
if I am the only one in the world
who has lost their bank card
and who can’t seem to be able to access
the hidden stock of happiness others find so easily

and I do not know if I am the only one who feels this way,

but, you see, I am so tired of living in eternal solitude
because the rest of the world seems to believe
that sadness is contagious and isolation is the only way
to protect themselves from the disease
I am so tired of shaking my piggy bank and hearing only
dead empty lonely silence from within

and someone once told me that happiness is the best revenge;
well, I do not have so much of that on hand.
but I wonder if maybe I could find pennies of joy
glittering on the sidewalk where no one else would think to look
or perhaps if there are spare scraps of cheer
lounging in between my sofa cushions just waiting to be found
I wonder if possibly I have been lingering far too long
and wondering why happiness never came to me
when all along there were pots of gold waiting
if I only I could follow the rainbow to the very end;

and so, maybe someday there will be a time when
the smile I have plastered on my face is no longer forced
and the laughter I control so carefully can be given freely
and my faded chipped piggy bank
will be filled to the brim with happiness
just like it was when I was five years old

and the thin crack running through it
will not matter any longer,
because I will have realised that smiles are not finite
and bank accounts for the soul have never been locked
and the only thing I have been doing wrong all this time
was never realising that happiness lived right before my eyes
if only I could learn how to drop my piggy bank to the ground
and let it all come spilling out in front of me.