Halls of the Dark Muse

To say the least I was always very opinionated, and when I was younger my parents would find it quite frustrating. There had been more than one occasion in which I would be out shopping and I would pick up some shirt and say in a less then discreet voice. "Look out hideous this is" and she would always be like you know other people here could have been thinking about buying that, and thus I would reply "Why should they care what I think of the shirt? If they didn't like what I was wearing I wouldn't care"

Or I would mess with some kid who made me mad, and my mother would try and quote the golden rule to me, and I would respond "I don't like them, and I don't really want someone I don't like being nice to me"

So this is a bit of a humorous poem about perspectives, and how technically I do live by "The Golden Rule" just not in the way that my parents intended it.

The Golden Rule

I see you beg apology
for my simple honesty
which you claim to be
a kind of cruelty

but I never promised
to be nice nor even
socially polite,

so I still speak
all vigor and vinegar
and if my opinions offend
don't think you can move me
with tears or assaults,

disagree as much as
you like, but do so
beneath a thicker skin
that doesn't shatter
upon my tongue.

I'm not sorry and I don't
regret that to you
my heart might appear
to be callous,

don't expect me to
sympathize with blank
faces of simple strangers
nor ask me to play the
part of trusting friend
with only acquaintances

and in return
I will promise you
that I won't throw myself
at your feet and beg
your mercy,

I seek not compassion
nor sympathy and wouldn't
burden you with my grief.

You see
it is the Golden Rule,
I treat you no differently
than what I expect in return,

mother just never understood
not everyone requires
the world to be flowers
and sunshine.