Poem: What are they without these?

Here is a poem I wrote recently.  The poem expresses gratitude for life's many faceted emotions.  Varying experiences and emotions have given me ammunition to write poetry, that I'm sure I wouldn't have written had I not had these experiences.  Besides poetry there are many blessings I have gained by means of both good and bad experiences in my life.  Thus, are there really 'bad' experiences?

What are they without these?

I thank you life experiences for giving me the inspiration to bring to life through words the thoughts that fill this poem. 

I thank you hate, anger and ingratitude for filling my soul with feelings that pour onto the page an everlasting memory of painted song 

I thank you apathy for teaching me that being void of feeling seems to feel something too and gives a neglectful edge to each dry word yet still expressing. 

I thank you chalous for rubbing against me just enough to bring a strength I didn't know I had that would yield such forc-ed letters upon a backdrop of white. 

I thank you tenderness, sweetness and love, for brimming up inside me like a fully flowing faucet pouring sillily into an overflowing cup.  Eventually it fills and when it is too full it can't help but escape somewhere, and for me it often finds itself with ink, and splotches, scribbles pouring as the dripping edge of the cups rime is flowing over. 

Thank you choice for affording me the vast difference in the lenses which I see the world which can seem to shift and change so rapidly as it were that each new drifting thoughts desire for a home finds itself in my notebook.   

Duly noted.