Kind
My mother always said be kindI have been kind of always.
Being cruel would be too grueling.
Once or twice I had to smite...
Not out of spite but to contain some fueling
Of the hateful kind.
Now in the dead of night
I hear my mother singing
A song so low and sweet.
I kind of always sing too loud
Too stridently and harsh...
Perhaps I should be crooning.
And when the song is over and done
I can find kindness to face the day.
Poetry by jenks
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Written on 2021-01-17 at 04:07
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Lawrence Beck |
josephus |
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