Here's a poem I wrote years ago:

My body is here
But my mind's in a sleep
And the frost on my heart
Is 12 inches deep

My feet filled with needles
Every step that I take
I crawl in my cave
And watch my hands shake

I know I'm not cold
No feeling, just tremor
I wish there was something
To say that was clever

To make my head clear
And my suffering less deep
But all that I want now
Is to just go to sleep.

I wrote that when I was suffering a bout of depression, which befalls me from time to time. They say it's hard to create when you're happy; I think it's true. I haven't done any creative writing in a long time. I need to start again. Of course, writing something like this doesn't make anyone go "oooh":

I drove to work today
Smiling all the time
I waved at the other drives
That have a smile like mine.

I floated to my office
Took off my hat and coat
I skipped to my computer
Nothing can get my goat.

I waved at those I work with
They all waved back at me.
My life is great, no doubt about it
And now I have to pee.