After time contemplating words to myself
sipping too many cups of coffee,
and daydreaming of stories I will never write
I’ve come to a strange conclusion in my own writings.
I don’t know how to write a positive poem.
You know the one that will rally the troops.
Something that can inspire the reader to move forward with their life.
A piece that gives hope to the hopeless.
I am not capable of doing that for some reason.
It must be the New Yorker in me.
Or I could just be an asshole.
I am too paranoid of everyone.
Every stranger at the store, every neighbor walking by, every person I see creates uncertainty in me rather than any sense of comfort.
Like when a stranger starts talking to me, I won’t think happy things.
“Oh joy. A chance to make a friend. Oh, I should get to know this person. Oh. I can’t wait.”
I never think that.
It’s more like. “Why the hell is this person talking to me? What do they want? I don’t know them.”
And if they are nice to me, and greet me with nothing but respect and courtesy, I won’t trust them.
They are too nice.
I’ll feel uncomfortable, like they are doing something wrong on their end.
They are using their kindness as a way to get something out of me.
Cause no one is nice to be nice, there is always a motive. (or so I think)
Anyone that way is phony, and a fake, and is not to be trusted.
I need help.
My skepticism of my fellow human beings has led me to lack any faith in them.
I question the peace treaty.
I spit on the olive branch.
I mock the compromise.
I scream, as if I have found a new profound meaning to life.
Like I figured something out that was unknown.
But I am the scammer here.
I am only scamming myself and the possibility of the good folks in the world to help me.
Because not everybody on the road is trying to hurt you, or deceive you.
There are some who, get this, may actually be kind people because that is how they are.
You know when Kamie came up with the idea of a positive theme, I really thought I’d write something inspirational like Kipling.
Try not to dream too much.
Try not to think too much.
Keep your head and trust yourself.
Or so I thought.
But I can’t.
Maybe I’m the one who needs to read the positive poem after all.
It seems the only thing I can do is be sure that I can’t be optimistic.
That counts as positive right?
About The Blogger
Greg Luti is an editor and blogger on pensandwords.com. His favorite writers are Robert Frost and Charles Bukowski. He enjoys reading up on history, watching comedies, and playing video games, when he is not writing down a few notes for his next piece. He started this blog out of his love for literature and hopes that the reader shares that same passion.
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