Happiness grew tired
of jolling among-
a fake and fleeting world,
that carries plastic souls
exposed like scenes,
seeking a minute’s fame.
And when it finally sets
amidst anguish and sorrow,
then the tragic souls
try to wear other faces
to cover
their unrepentant sins.
©2026, Vasiliki Papadopoulou
Your words paint a vivid and haunting portrait of modern disillusionment. The way you’ve personified Happiness as something weary and retreating gives the poem a soulful depth. The contrast between the “plastic souls” chasing fleeting fame and the later image of “tragic souls” hiding behind other faces is striking—it feels like a powerful commentary on authenticity and regret.
There’s a quiet, almost mournful wisdom here, especially in the idea that when true feeling fades, what remains is often just masks and unrepentant shadows. Beautifully crafted and deeply resonant.🌷🤝
Thank you, Srikanth. Your analysis absolutely resonates with the intention I wrote this poem. 😊🙏
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