There are so many poems about hopelessness and lies

About tears and what what lies beyond the skies

Why did this happen? How did we get to this point?

Where with only words do we feel that we do not disappoint?

Why is it so hard to write about ice cream and sunny days?

Why are there no poems about somebody simply making their way?

Is it nature? Do we crave the dramatic conflict?

Or is it just easier to write about times we were pushed and kicked?

I’m not innocent in this sense, I’ve written depressing works before

I just can’t help but feel that there’s more

That life isn’t all gloomy and grey

That once we find happiness it won’t immediately go away

Maybe happiness in works of art and life isn’t banned

Maybe we have to be the ones to extend their hand