Poem-shaped object

Yes, I still stand by that I'm officially out of mourning, but that doesn't mean that I won't still feel sad or angry sometimes. I don't want to be a pain in the ass about it, but denying its existence doesn't work. Writing sappy poetry does, though...

What's so great about you, spirit?
Why give me arms made for embracing
then tell me not to cling?
Why give me hands made for holding
then tell me to let go?
Why give me a heart made for love
then tell me to be happy alone?
They say you created me,
yet you ask me to be other than what I am
And I'm to believe in you with no proof?
Great Perversity
is more like it.