I usually don’t write
when times are bad.
And if I do,
I don’t share.
I can’t see in the dark.
I forget who I am
when I’m angry.
Or at least I’m not
who I want to be.
I’d rather only share peace
and light and love.
I don’t like the poems
when my words are black;
there’s enough evil
in this world without them.
But can I appreciate my good
without an ounce of the opposite?


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