Why is it so hard to write a happy poem, yet so easy to write a poem of depression?
Why is it so easy to hold a grudge, but so difficult to forgive someone who does you wrong?
Why do we expect the worst while we never hope for the best?
Why do we try so hard to get our revenge, when there could just as easily be forgiveness?
Why can't we take things as they are instead of complicating even the smallest things?
Why is the world depressed?
Life is divine, why not enjoy it?