Why do poets always write about love,
As though it is filled with beauty,
As though there aren't grey clouds above,
And to live and love is human's duty.

Why do poets always write about heartbreak,
As though a heart so filled with void,
Could somehow be expressed of how it aches,
And thoughts of what could be is fully employed.

Why do poets not talk about how life is wonderful,
That love is not a necessary part to life,
That we in all our essence make Earth beautiful,
And that love doesn't start with the word wife.

Why must poets colour coat the beautiful world,
And take away from the blue serene skies,
Ignoring nature and all the art it has hurled,
Filling our head with hollywood dreams and lies