The Muse

Feeling melancholy on a bright and sunny day
Wondering which pill to take
To push the blues away

Fighting to recover happiness once I called my own
Feels like this is not the day
I should face myself alone

Everything over the top
Too much, too bright, to sad
Too long, too loose, too proud
The words magnify the thoughts
They come out way to loud

Where is the lighthearted poem best written?
Paper? Keyboard? Heart?
Soul? Mind? Yours? Mine?
They are all melancholy bitten

Interwoven, though I am
The should and do don't fuse
The could and would won't mesh
Guilt is my muse.

"But not..." she whispers, barely audible
I maybe could, "But not!" she cries louder now
I probably should, "But not!" she screams
But I won't.

Did you hear something?