Demons And Angels

Where has all the humour gone?
So far away and elusive.
What's gone wrong?
Why can't I write something that's wild and fun?

Sadness flows through my words,
melancholy in abundance,
but I need something to compare it with,
something to bring some balance to my work
and to my life.

If I could just get happiness to shine sometimes
like the sun breaking through
the storm clouds in my mind,
getting through each day would seem less of a chore.

Writing of despair is easy.
Writing of joy is a challenge
even at rare times when I feel joyful.

It's good to be challenged.
A challenge is as good as a holiday.
Shouldn't that be a change?
A change in style sorely needed.

Time to try something new,
put my skills to the test.
Time to give the blues a rest.

It would be nice to write something
to make people laugh and smile -
give them pleasure for awhile -
rather than make them uncomfortable,
distorting their faces with tears and frowns.

It's a gift undervalued to lift an audience up
rather than leave them feeling down.

A gift I don't tap into enough.

Oh to be able to write of magic and love
without writing of their loss;
to write of the good things to be had
without analysing their cost.

There's a time and a place for pain
but pleasure should never be ignored.

Why should I always expose my demons
when I have my angels too?

There's enough tears cried
throughout this world
without me constantly immortalising my own
through words.

I will always have my demons,
harassing me like unwelcome friends,
and I will write of them again.

But I must learn occasionally
to silence their tortured screams
so I can ask my angels to give me wings,
fly with them towards my dreams
and write of better things.