Joy

 

An entity unknown to this mere being, as you ask, so I plead guilty, never had foxtrot tasted the scrumptious desert named “JOY”. Favored to the fortunate comes this mysterious noun you wish to call joy. Deprived in the scorching sands of time, dearth of patience engulfs this cursed mind, Foxtrot searches for even a single moment that truly brought pleasure to his soul. Rambling in the dark and so he finds what he truly desired, an omen signaling the end of his suffering. His heart bursts open, and so comes out the impetus of life, blood.

What is it that you truly meant when you asked, describe your joyous moments?

Did you mean the time, Foxtrot’s vixen bled in his arms?

The soothing pleasure you feel when someone dear dies in your arms, you then only truly value them.

I too shall one day iterate to you what joy is, maybe not today, maybe another day.

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