They say that one’s genetically disposed

To happiness or the opposite. If so

What’s to be done? My very mind opposed

To hope and happiness; my soul my foe.

Let’s get to grips – eschew an unfelt smile

Go with the burden, buckle with the weight

Swig all the bitter brew of fortune’s bile

Walk into darkness hand in hand with fate.

Hold on though! – Here’s that cherub with blue eyes

Who makes my heart rebel against my brain

Who takes a sharp blade to inherent ties

And makes me free for gaiety again

“Blue genes” are mine, okay – for me that means

My love has eyes the colour of blue jeans. 

‍