Oh, those happy sad people

Why are all poems of tragic and drama?
Rarely do my eyes spot a happier line.
And when they do, it’s all about
bunnies, rainbows and sunshine.

I understand creative freedom and need to express,
But is this shallow water the deepest we can get?
Repetition never tires in a poet’s mind I know.
Rare improvement, rare passion,
But enough plain words to throw around.

A sad thought, behind an even sadder mask makes no one joyful,
For the world sees blindness in the unique and able.