I was born to be good: a poem

I was born to be good
and I loved it, and
I loved the way
you loved me, and
I loved the way I loved you.

It was good to be born, when
the world was just born too and
the light was the first light and
the dark was the first dark.

It was dull to be good, when
the dark got darker while
the light stayed dull,
when I had to choose,
to move into the darkness
or to never move at all.

It was good to be dull when
your backyard was the end
of the world, containing
never-ending adventure,
but only the kind with all the tree
climbing and none
of the bee stings.

It is dull to be born,
to see that things don’t change,
from one backyard
to the other, that people
don’t change,
not forward or across.

 


A/N: This poem started when my phone’s auto-fill auto-filled with something surprisingly poetic. With a few minor changes, it gave me the entire first stanza. Maybe I’ll consult auto-fill in the future when I want to write but don’t know where to begin!

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