To compensate, to compensate,
For happiness that doesn’t exist,
In a being, a being,
Too over joyful and the politest,
Of the polite.
To compensate and compensate,
For the bitterness, the sadness,
In a prisoner held inside,
Behind a welcome smile,
So vilely sweet,
And a friendly face,
Hides faded blue eyes,
Faded for life.
To compensate, to play the charade,
In bubbly persona,
An attractive young life,
Wields the pain so sinister,
So poisonous,
That drains the body,
Of possession of new zest,
Yet, hidden from view,
In a compensate play.
Melissa Coventry
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-compensate/
