What is it about sad poems,
or poems about love,
which are often melancholic,
that I love so much,
well for a non-alcoholic,
I need an escape,
cause I sin,
and I bleed,
and it's always my fault,
but when I'm writing,
my pen bleeds,
and these lines don't judge,
the page has no choice,
but to love me,
why would I come here when I'm happy,
no need to comfort someone with a smile.