How do you write when life is all good?
No pain to inspire; the hearts as it should.
How does art flow when nothing is wrong?
When tears are dried up; hurts are long gone.
Why is misery my creative tool?
When happiness just makes me act like a fool.
Will words of deep meaning come from pure joy?
Or will contentment be my poetic destroy?
In writing this piece, I question my mind;
Hoping for answers, but none did I find.
Never shall I doubt the power of sorrow;
Yet I wish for it not today or tomorrow.