Far Too Happy Poem by atticus denny

Why Does Life Have To Be So Wonderful?
I wish my life was terrible
I beckon all manner of atrocities into my life.
With every moment of anguish my writing hand grows more steady.
When clouds gather in front of the sun and lightning scorches the earth,
I find my pen flowing.

From great anguish comes great art, so why is everything I make lackluster?
For none of this is lacking.
My vocabulary is dense, my words strung together with precision and care
My diction is flavorful, so why is every piece so bland?
I have contracted an ailment, one that numbs the mind and dulls the quill;
I suffer from terminal content.

I hope the hood of a speeding car makes contact with my delicate torso;
I hope I contract the plague;
I hope I might one day escape from the depths of lyrical mediocrity,
Be it through calligraphy or catastrophe,
As my serotonin levels cascade into the depths of hell, I will watch my pen soar.