Why do we cry alone? Why don't we reach out when we're sad and then wonder why we feel lonely? Why do we deny ourselves of comfort and companion and wonder why we are never in a deep relationship with people—soul to soul?
Why can't I write happy poems? I've realized that we want to get rid of sadness, so we write it down. It will be immortalized in words, sure, but it's a release nonetheless. On the other hand, we want to conceal happiness—inside us. Until we are filled with it. Maybe that's why Lang Leav said that "all sad people write".