16 Lines

What was that I could write,
within just sixteen lines?
I thought, looking at the paper white-
no more sadness, nor prattles
about the long lost love
or the death of that beautiful dove;
Or whining about how darkness surrounds,
and how sadness prevails all around...
Shall I write about how I sing?
Just hoping it wouldn't get so boring,
Or shall I write about "why I write",
But didn't I already write it twice?
When nothing came to my mind,
I thought about writing on the angels so kind
But by then, as I looked up,
I had already written 16 lines.