This one’s a little in the style of Dr. Seuss. Enjoy. (Or not.)
Think positive, think positive, you or they may say.
But it’s easy, so easy for you to say.
A realist, I am, I say, each day
in my undeniable, fait accompli of ultra-flawed ways of ways.
A “realist” that, with never a drink,
at times acts drunk, or even act the crazy “optimist.”
To Be, and me, more comfortable in my skin,
instead of getting all outlandishly shy or pissed.
Why it sure takes a toll,
the disagreement, with you, with me, you see.
And how insincere, insensitive I really can be,
snubbing thee— another missed opportunity!
Come to stress, I digress.
You know, they always say, of you or I ought to
dream big, and bigger, and act on it, make it so.
But how would I, or could I, having
roughly the brain of a dodo?
Ah, but real confidence cannot come from ever really knowing.
But rather from the heart, the sleep,
living and breathing,
and definitely going.
A happiness, therein, you seek,
to work, respect and thereby, therefore inspire.
To utilize and move, and love and care,
and on the inappropriate side, only lastly desire.
If that were so easy too.
And lastly again, what’s taught, and thought
of what should be and what should not,
forgetting how things always work out in the end,
regardless of what you got.
For you see, to a degree, every one is flawed.
Honestly, complicated, but simple from the start.
As everyone counts, and everything matters,
well before being realized; there is always a heart.
To find understanding in those you hear
and in turn sing your own flawed song,
that to live and love positive would definitely mean seeing
‘not right’ more than ‘wrong.’