On the ninth day of Christmas
I felt sadness inside of me
and I cried.
Who am I to keep sadness prisoner
inside these flimsy human walls of mine?
Sadness deserves freedom
just as much as joy does.
On the ninth day of Christmas,
I really was okay.
But even on okay days
sadness sometimes knocks
and asks to be let out.
Who am I to deny it that?
Who am I to resist my human nature?
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