Deep beneath my Facebook Profile, lies a secret no one should ever know.
I love to take care of people. I love being a hostess. I love it so much, I glow.
I fancy the cold weather. As it brings people together. I pray for ice and snow.
But time marches on. I take my time to plan a love shower, but none of them show.
I throw a party of words to make their face shine.
Yet they scoff when I call, I would bet my last dime.
This is not depressing. This is how the world works.
We fancy cars, travels, money, and houses. But none of it can we take to the dirt.
What’s my legacy. Who am I?
I’m a tragic social butterfly
I invite you to not just my house, but into my heart.
But I’m ashamed to say, It’s become mighty dark.
Because I am mentally ill, and much of my space do demons fill.
The space of my time.
I cannot explain it. I sit down to write and start with a statement.
The same one over and over.
Today was great! Tomorrow will be even better.
Then I post it up, I’m societies greatest debtor.
I cannot do much for people. But I love to try.
But here I am holding back a cry.
I know you don’t need to hear this. You’ve got bigger fish to fry.
But these words are locked up in that squishy pink mind.
The only way they know to escape is through the pages of this note.
I guess there is one thing about me that I hope you take from this.
I am human too, just like you and none of us are perfect.
I don’t want to go all religious, but there are words of a famous peacemaker.
“Take the plank out of your own eye.”
I am writing this letter to society.
It’s not the alcohol that causes insobriety. It’s the love.
If I asked you how many things you love about yourself, I’m sure you’d name a few.
But about your enemy, would you think until your thinkers blue?
This is a lot to swallow and no I am not going to wallow.
Good Morning. It’s a brand new day for us to glitter our Profile until it’s absolutely great.
But at the end of the day. It doesn’t matter what’s at stake.
We all are here to love. It’s the greatest commandment.
But we are failing miserably and honestly, I can’t stand it.
I do not hate the world. My heart sorrows for generations to come.
Flying cars and fat wallets.
Faster technology and less patient hearts.
I can only imagine the world sweeter than tart.
Where we love without reason. No matter the holiday season.
Love trumps all but here we are approaching fall.
Where we go into each other’s houses just to pretend we care.
Then an old cranky relative says don’t you dare.
But it’s true. Why do we only care to show around the holidays.
We play music, mingle, eat good food, and then go home.
See you next year, glad we could cheer. But that stuff is not valuable.
It’s stuff the old world finds malleable.
We upgrade fancy things every so often. But only get one life above ground. We’re one breathe from the coffin.
What’s my legacy? Who am I?
I am a tragic Social Butterfly.
This final question I ask.
As my words begin to ash
What is important in this beautifully mixed up world.
Just to put it to you this way. It’s mixed up because we forgot how to remove the plank in our eyes.
We get critical and judgmental.
But when we look inside our hearts, we’re one in the same. Its inargumentable.