Existence
Is it wrong to be too nice?
To show no bad bone,
To hold no ill will of another;
But only want them to become flexible,
In the words used to others in far other,
Means of this world of life,
We must share,
In a tango dance of broken glass and daggers flying,
Again in anger!
For once again,
The chance to even come to express that feeling,
Is that come as a good thing or not.
To never be able to show one emotion out of hundreds,
That runs through our veins.
Is there anything amiss to this?
Anything at all to lack this feeling!
To show all that of sapphire hue sadness,
Yellow brightness of happiness,
Thoughtful plum of nostalgia,
Slimy green of greed,
Coy pink for bashfulness,
Golden shine of pride,
Wacky orange of wildness,
Calm white of innocence,
Void blackness of power,
But never of that one color,
Those smooth crimsons of anger.
Maybe in turn of life,
We lean more on a better part of the color wheel,
And stray away from the beaten and worn side,
Leaving again unbalances.
To again,
Leaves the question,
To never show anger,
Becomes that as a good thing or not?
Leaving one to wonder,
Are they inhuman?
Or very close to human?
Wonder only for that’s one answer all can see.
Without looking too far deep,
Down the rabbit hole of existence there is?
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