You asked me why all my poems are sad
Why they can never be happy
And I looked at you and said I don't know
But you know what the day you left
You were getting your happy poem
I was in the middle of it
So to answer your question
Happy doesn't last long enough to get a poem
I get glimpses of happiness
But never enough to form words
You see a poem takes time
It has to brew inside of you for a long time
Now the happy poem is just
Broken pieces of something that could be
Now its words drips with sadness
Drip Drip Drip
Like the blood down my wrist
Drip