The miscellaneous or morose

Sad poems are my forte

I cannot explain why

I don't understand it myself sometimes,

If the poem isn't sad

It's about some form of love

Or miscellaneous things

Like writing

Or sleep,

And other times

They're of thoughts that plague my mind

But most are sad

And I can't tell you why,

Though I've theorized reasons

Perhaps it's because

I enjoy the times I am happy

And therefore do not write

Or that my happiness is too great

For words to describe

Or maybe I'm never truly happy save for what's observed upon my surface

Whatever the case I am diseased with sad writes