Hopeless Poem by Cloe C

It is not my fault my poetry is heavy. Like a book left outside in the rain. And when you go to pick it up, your arms give out because you cannot carry it. From the pages saturated and soaked in water. See I tried to make happy poems except it turns hopeless instantly. Writing about how I'm on a beach making sand castles. But except I feel the sorrow from drowning in the waves of the ocean. Or how the sky bends with blues that I feel so deeply in my bloodline. How the sun is something that I can never feel. I tried to write something happy like a carnival except I relate it to back to a rollercoaster ride. Feeling the highs and lows of sadness and grief. I tried to write about art except when I see always see a canvas filled with emotions of pain and terror. I write about being in a meadow filled with flowers except I stumble upon a rose and it pricks me as I bleed and bleed and bleed. I'm cursed with seeing the negative side of everything.