"So long!" I say, as you turn
and rear your head to others.
As if, in some way, I'm malicious.
It's a judgment I'm willing to take,
as long as the floor's planted
beneath my feet. As long as the grass grows
below the sun. As long as I'm alive
to feel the same sun switch over to the moon.
I don't bend to fit your will.
I say what I mean, I mean what I say.
You can't twist my words to actions,
that I, by no means, ever agreed to enact.
That's the act of the snake.
He left you repressed,
waiting, sly, and strikes
with a venom you least expect.
Especially if the venom
never fell from my mouth:
Don't assume.
Don't spread the word.
Anytime I offer help,
take what help I offer.
Don't offer anyone the work they
are unwilling and unable to do.
That will leave you with
a junky job done,
by anyone.
An incomplete picture of
what the world should be.
Don't tear your view of the canvas
if you know the paint hasn't even
had the chance to speak.
I suggest you don't
squander what you're given.
Be grateful for what you've got.
Open your mind,
and open your eyes.
In an instant, you'll find
the helping hand you need.
