The Good Things

In the dead of the night,

Nothing was expected of you,

Aside from whiskey shots,

And cheap, cold laughs-

It was much too easy

For people to comment on

What wasn’t being done

Instead of what was perfect.

I mean, how could you compare

Evil and bad without choosing sides?

Any person, any humanitarian can count on one hand

The amount of times something

Great, significant happened

To them, but could ramble all day

About the things they were missing.

How were you supposed to get up

In this world, when 9/10 times,

Your day would consist of s**t.

Whenever you woke up

To the world, it wouldn’t have

Even mattered if you had

Slept in one day, or two weeks.

Only the good things count.