This Is Not A Happy Rhyme

This is not a happy poem

I am through with happy rhymes
They lie with lines all nicely timed
I look at every charming phrase
And throw the book aside, enraged.

I want a poem full of woe,
Where all my questions end in ‘no’.
With creatures torn by cold and fear,
So gone are thoughts of summer’s cheer

Give me a poem with empty words
Promises broken and wishes unheard
Where romance ends and lovers cry
Where people suffer and people die.

Show me a poem with wilted flowers
With no sweet scents that last for hours
Where sunny skies are cast away
And days are painted all in grey.

So I choose instead the darker path
Laced with anger, revenge and wrath,
My words that once could lift the heart
Will have the charm of poisoned darts.

This is the gospel by which I will live
No editing life with a creative sieve
Instead of dressing up hate in embroidered thread
I’m allowing its fire and passion to spread

This is my reason for writing of strife,
I’m simply presenting what is true of life.