I wrote a poem. What do you think of it?

It's...well, it's kind of terrible. First off, the "my" thing gets annoying fast, especially when you had to smear it in weaksauce with that "myself" bit. Seriously? "Myself tries to hold on?" Well, myself thinks that if you have to contort a line like that to maintain your theme, you need a new theme. Second, why do so, so many poems these days begin with someone looking at a knife? And, interestingly enough, it seems like they're never written by someone older than...oh, let's say nineteen. Third, and this is the big one, there is a fine line between sorrow and angst, and...no, scratch that. The line is a mile wide, and you're on the bad side. It's impossible to sympathize with this, because it's too far over the top. Or under the bottom, as it were. Nobody wants to hear how sad you are, they want to hear what you're doing about it, or failing that, why you're said. This is all so pive, it's like....yeah, I get that you're miserable, but why don't you go outside? It's beautiful out this time of year no matter where you are. Go talk to a random stranger! Get laid! Find an arcade and play air hockey with a homeless man! Jump in a fountain! I promise you, if you walk around for a while you'll find somebody walking a puppy who will let you pet their puppy. Write a poem about that. I'd love to read it. But please, please, don't start each line with the word "puppy."