When there will always be a hole 

For my happiness 

How could it ever be only my pursuit 

And condescendingly I phrase it 

I cannot be happy if you are not happy 

When I tell them in silence 

When I raise it to their face 

The people who will see my white hangnail 

I feel that other people make me who I am 

I want my right to include them 

As I unlatch it and try to think of something other than the pursuit of happiness 

My hangnail hooks the scratchy yarn 

The hole of my scarf 

I stick my finger that people compliment on its skinniness into 

The hole of my scarf 

My hangnail hooks the scratchy blue yarn 

As I unlatch it and try to think of something other than the pursuit of happiness 

And my right to it, I am told, 

I feel that other people make me who I am 

The people who will see my white hangnail 

When I raise it to their face 

When I tell them in silence 

I cannot be happy if you are not happy 

So, urgently I try to phrase it because it all seems obvious now 

How could it ever be my pursuit 

For only my happiness 

When there will always be a hole I cannot get at 

Without you and you