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…