I'd like to write of happy things,
A loving glance or smile,
But even if I'd known such things,
It's simply not my style.

For when I'm hurt, or in a mood,
I shut myself away,
I'm furiously writing,
About what bothered me that day.

I tend to be quite negative,
It's impossible to hide,
But if you'd look beyond the angst,
You would see a different side.