Friday, February 20, 2015

This Poem is called Whatever.

Whatever
There are so many issues in the world,
So many scarred hearts and so many tears,
War and hurt and hate and darkness,
But it'll be fine, whatever.

The sadness and grief is rising,
All the things people put up with,
It can't compare and it never will,
But it'll be fine, whatever.

The future might not be better,
But we don't and will never know,
Impossibility ruins the big picture for everyone,
But it'll be fine, whatever.

Can't figure out what will happen,
Will we ever come close to the answer?
We say whatever, it will be repaired in good time,
But maybe we need a new word to fix the mess.



This isn't one of my best poems. But it's all about procrastination.
Not for small things.
For BIG things. Like war.
You can't put that kind of stuff off.
This poem reminds you of that. And it tells you about natural human behavior.
You know, how we tend to procrastinate.
A lot.
Even the organized ones.
Yeah. We all mess up.
But that doesn't mean we should be let down by it. No one's perfect.
And we can't "fix" people to be the true image of perfection. Because there is no such thing.
That's just not how it works.