Seems like the easiest route for me,
When I am on a guilt trip
Or at crossroads
Or when I’m simply lost;
Many times, I vent out
Letting the fumes out of my heart,
I hope the heat hasn’t burnt anyone
For such times, it seems the lips are like a furnace;
But I am human
Is that a moral objection to complain?
Or is it logical that that should be my reaction
When rationality seems bewildering?
But do all men complain?
Do we at one time or the other,
Give into that weakness?
Is it the weakness, habit, or indulgence
Or simply an expression of my heart?
These are my questions:
But I wish to be more…
Not give into complaining
For I have a choice not to complain,
Or so I feel
Maybe I can do something else;
Something else to give me joy
This is my resolve:
That when next something happens
I shall look for beauty in it;
For there are shades of colours
Therefore, situations have shades;
I can tone or tint them
So I’ll see a beautiful picture
© Chukwudi Isaac