What happened to my sense of humor?

Is it lost, trampled, crushed and broken into million pieces just like my dreams, hopes and will to live?

Or has it been engulfed by tons of ice-creams, pizzas, laddus and cookies, turned into a mushy ugly mass of meat?

Or has it slid down into gutter, to bottomless pit, just like my aspirations?

Where did it go? And how do I find it?

No, no, all these metaphors are not completely true. I have taken some parliamentary poetic license.

I think, I know why. I have stopped reading anything other very short quotes. So mind does not expand and no creativity. 

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