Painting of Life

Shock
Unbelief
Questions
How? Why? When? What?
No answers. Just emptiness.
Strength, then breaking,
No tears. Only torture.
War.
War of the heart and of the mind.
Swirling thoughts and emotions.
Memories.
But they are good memories.
And when all else melts away,
There is still that lingering joy
That is the fine accent marks
On this painting of life.

Is it just me, or do all of my poems start out really, really depressing and then have a happy, peaceful ending? It's kinda weird. :P I think I'll try to write a happy one now...