Imagined Happiness

Piotr Stojanow

July 6, 2020

Sisyphus by Zanachi

It was only by chance that I wished myself into death.

Too late to feel the cold rock on my cheek.

All unfinished thoughts race to the surface of my spilling consciousness.

A futile grasp for one last breath of attention.

To imagine myself happy was enough for the punishment to end.