What I Was Made to Do

I tried to be normal, I tried to be happy,
But it all came out senseless and wretchedly sappy
I tried to be positive, I tried to put on a sweet smile
But it just made me sick to my stomach after awhile.
I tried to forget, I tried to live without my dark poetry
But I realized I was trying to kill a part of me.
I tried to run, I tried to escape from my dark self
But I felt the guilt of putting my dreams on a shelf
I then discovered, this fact that has always stayed true
Writing dark poetry is what I was made to do.