I wrote a poem before called nice, I may change the name of this one.
Nice is fake good, not true, no fun.
Some of my family are nice, unfortunately, pity me.
Possibly I went over the top today, I said I would not go, she drove away.
I said I’m never visiting my family again, I can’t stand people being nice.
I will not be nice, no never.
Friendly yes, your ever.
Why should any subject be taboo?
It is not to me. To you?
You can’t be nice to some people, not to others.
Remember we are sisters, brothers.
An aim of mine in life is avoiding stress.
I hope you understand, God bless.
I am sorry for you getting so uptight.
If you can’t control your temper, goodnight.
I realise we all have our flaws.
Don’t condemn without just cause.
I will not be moulded into another shape though I am descended from an ape.
It would take a God to sum up a family, I am not he.
I am only me looking for serenity in all places, in all time.
Is that a crime?
I answer my own question, no.
That’s why I did not go.
Now you know.
We may live miles apart but you are still part of my heart.
As you may have guessed I could go on forever.
To put it backwards, I don’t want to see you never.
Or hardly ever.
I am old, time will run out.
Do call when you are about.
We ought to make allowances for others.
Whether or not they are brothers.
That is my point of view.
I know you have one too.
Peace and harmony are also aims of mine.
I dislike battlefields and rows and unforgiven crime.
But that’s just me, be as you want to be.
It takes all sorts to make a family tree.
Including you and me.
And others too, who have disappeared from view.
This poem may seem neverending.
Just one thing.
Bridges need mending.
27th August, 2016