una cara triste


my mother was born
con una cara triste,
and i’m the same way.

doesn’t matter how i feel or think,
my mood reflects my face.

guess i gotta face it
like a mirror do,
but i’m always smiling at the mirror view.
(always lying at the mirror view)

i don’t smile on sunny days,
i’ve tested it,
i don’t smile on snowy days,
i’ve tested it.
the world has tried to cheer me up,
i’ve bested it.

tryna stay in a happy state,
but there’s no happy hour
in the Utah state.
no shade on Utah, literally;
Utah’s been great.

i absorb all the love that’s thrown at me,
but it’s a puddle to a lake.

i’m fake, i’m phony,
to take a line from Tio Tony:

“chuuuuuuuso,”

is my spirit sound;
the sound of stress from a real man.

i don’t get real mad anymore,
it’s medicated.

the sadness, i laugh about it;
wear it like white paints
and a red nose with the big shoes.

fuck it, it’s the sadness i use
to navigate this pretty place.

my mother was born
con una cara triste,
but it’s a pretty face.

“una cara triste”
©Steven Cuenca

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