Is it possible to suffer in bliss?

To be rosy in health, 
To have not a single burden weighing heavy on your shoulders, 
But still feel as though your chest is constrained in thorns? 
To still dread waking in the morn? 
To fill your empty mind with worry after worry, 
Just to keep it occupied? 
To be upset without cause, 
Unable to confide in the loving embrace of reason?

To resolve to watching the suffering of a life you never know? 
A mere piece of fiction you must grit your teeth to watch? 
To analyse the every aspect of their misery, 
With dare I say glee, 
To better understand how they think, 
How they function? 
To be depraved enough to even think, 
To watch but to never empathise? 
Perhaps it is the joyous life one has lived so far that gives one entertainment watching a tragedy? 
To enjoy pathos feeling like a sinner, 
A vile criminal?

– Maya Desdemona