Sadness

When it begins creeping in. When you can feel the slow leak into your heart; that small piercing icy tingle, gently spreading into the marrow of your bones, you must run. You must fight it off with brooms, rolled newspaper, the fork in your fist. Find your place and plant your roots deeply. Do not move from that place that grounds you. Cling to shiny objects and other souls that carry purpose. Do not let it overwhelm you, but tuck it into bed with a glass of warm milk laced with cyanide. For there is no place in you for sadness, you must press on, move forward and onward. Forever.