Why do I choose to write when I'm sad?
What about when I'm over the moon happy?
When I'm crying on the floor nothing but sobs reach my mouth.
I reach for a pen
But,
When I'm happy.
I inhale it.
Believing not another day will be this joyous

Here  I am again. Sorrow in my heart.
Nothing but sadness wiped on my courages face.
Every time I'm sad it's a different kind of pain.
But the pen in my hand always stays.