Ode to being nice

You know how it goes the nice game
Don’t say that it isn’t what we do, not pleasant
Even when it’s true enough to make you sick
Of the verbal nicety games
And in my mind I stand there as I have a thousand times
Shredding you with my words
A tearful mess on the floor as the truth rips you apart
One day I will because it cannot stay contained
In a box,  tied prettily to keep in the mess
Maybe I won’t be the one who opens the box
And then you will be struck dumb
As the shock of your own actions come home
I am not sure I can even feel pity for you
It is all your own doing, and you could have avoided it
At any
You choose still your own desire for status
To be a
Who is not a someone you blind fool?
What are things when you are alone
Looking out
At what you could have had but threw away
Like something in the rubbish



Author: ailsacawley

I have written since I can remember, devouring the stories of Roald Dahl under the covers by torchlight. I have always loved fairy tales, myths and magic. A good deal of the things I write has some truth in it. Others, not. I’m pleased you dropped by, please feel free to leave me a comment or if you’re kind enough to share that’s fine. ☺️

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