Silver Lining

In times of turmoil, be optimistic.

Retold stories of empty lives,

recurring tragedy and teary wives.

A child who dies without the chance to live,

and mothers without a single f**k to give.

Yet, what of the child with nappy hair,

who lived his life too happy to care,

about the people who would stop and stare,

or judge the fashion of cloth he would wear?

He breathed every word he spoke,

as an egocentric, straight laced joke.

Believed there was a core of good in mankind,

and it was only our thoughts that had us in a bind.

We're only as dark as we see fit,

and only as bright as the flames we lit.

Only as tangled as the threads we knit,

and only as true as the words we spit.

So we're only as fucked up as we believe,

only dead when we stop living to grieve.

We're only liars when we live to decieve,

we're all just reflective of what we concieve.

So what of the child with nappy hair,

who payed no mind to those who stare?

He wasn't the the type to watch everyone's eyes go everywhere,

because he wasn't responsible for people who stopped to stare.

It's their own choice and burden that they chose, themselves to bare,

to draw focus from their own lives to speculate on anyone, anywhere.