Dark and depressing,
that's all I write.
It could be about death
or about a fight.
Suicide, murder,
it's all the same.
And because of this fact,
I'm kind of in shame.
For that's all I write about
don't you see?
I can't write "happy"
it just can't be.
I tried to write "happy",
never came out good.
It came out dark and depressing,
like I knew it would.
Irony Is Defined As
This poem made me feel happy - down and dark loves company so I smile and chuckle. After depression, the sun rises and wicked little moldy flowers blossom whether wanted on undesireable. Read a book of jokes. Watch a comedy (like Clue) and the day is still cloudy but the lining is straining for silverdom - I enjoyed this - I live there sometimes - encore ~Lady A~