My poetry

My poetry is dark,
no happiness is seen.
I can not write the joy I feel,
for none of it feels real.

I suppose I'm just a disappointment,
on how my writing seems.
Bet you didn't expect to see,
this kind of stuff from me.

The smile I pin on everyday,
cages me inside.
No-one knows the thoughts I bare,
the depressions so unfair.

The things I see,
and mood swings I possess,
are only felt by me.
I wish they'd let me be.

The pain I feel has great effect,
on how I write my words.
The way I cope,
shows no hope.
and you would look down on.

My poetry is all I have to,
save me from myself.
Because I can trust no-one,
for my thoughts have always won.