Why must I think a poem has to rhyme for it to be good Why do I write so dark when I’m in the sunlight Why can’t I be like the others around me Enjoying every second of life without a care I want to do this but I can’t I tell them I’m ok but inside the light is going out Out of its way to strangle my last bit of happiness Why can’t I rhyme and be happy Why can’t I say what’s I feel My life is full of nothing except for Why. Why. Why…