My honest opinion on hate?
Love it!
Smother it with compassion!
Being blindingly gentle
And barbarically kind!

You worry about the harm one could do?
I'm worried about the harm being done.

You're worried to offer an inch?
I tell you, grab a hold of my arm!

She has been through hell and back
and would never wish that on someone else,
so she’ll hide all that she wants;
scoot it far into her heart.
She’ll give you all the kind smiles,
she’d never harm a fly
because she knows how to empathise.

I never fit into the fairy tale
of a perfect broken soul,
I hurt others
because I don’t know how to love
I try my best
but it’s never enough.
In fact,
I don’t.
I don’t try my best.
I do the bare minimum to keep myself alive,
I haven’t got a kind heart,
all I got is luck
and a broken soul.

How to get through to someone
Who simply won't talk to you‽
How to get through to someone
Who thinks they've already "gotten through‽"
How to get through to someone
Who really can't be bothered seeing‽
How to get through to someone
Who really isn't listening‽

What's 𝘮𝘺 name?

For most crave some recognition,
For most know of some loneliness.
It's better to have compassion,
Lest our rasher emotions ruin moment.
It's better to have patience,
Lest our hectic thoughts disrupt a companion.

Who are 𝘺𝘰𝘶?

For many can be very callous,
For many are much imbalanced.
It's better to care for one's self
Than to be hurt by another who only does.
It's better to love who you are
Than to find that you're with someone who does not.

Themselves. Others.

In a room where shadows stretched like sighs,
Where time wore slippers and whispered lies,
There stood a soul, not born, but built,
Threaded not from ease, but quilted guilt,
Not soft by chance, but choice refined,
By all the jagged things behind.

She walked where tempests cracked the sky,
Where childhood dreams went soft and dry,
Where harsh words bruised like winter sleet,
Yet still she offered something sweet.
Not sugar spun from naivety,
But honey from a wisdom tree.

For kindness, see, is not a gift
Wrapped neat in bows and morning lift,
It’s forged in fire, steeped in rain,
Tempered in sorrow, kissed by pain.
It’s choosing light with eyes gone dim,
And humming hope when edges grim.

She smiles not out of ignorance,
But as rebellion. As a dance.
As a thumb pressed gently in the eye
Of every grief that whispered: Why?

She learned to bloom where nothing grew,
To soften sharpness, split in two,
And still she laughed. And still she gave.
And still she found more hearts to save.

The kindest souls are not naive,
They know how often people leave,
How promises can turn to smoke,
Yet still, they mend the ones who broke.

So if you meet one - bless the thread
That stitched their wounds and raised their head.
They are the lanterns, fierce and bright,
Born not in ease, but in the night.

I. On the Nature of Smiles
A smile is a sneaky, invisible thing,
It creeps from the lips without flutter or wing,
But lo! when it lands on a stranger’s dull day,
It tickles the sorrow and shoos it away.

It travels through coffee shops, crosswalks, and queues,
It softens the sternest of daily-day news.
It has no real price, no receipt, no command,
And yet it could cradle the world in its hand.

II. The Grand and Glorious Hug
Now don’t underestimate (please, if you can)
The power of arms - be ye woman or man,
To wrap someone up like a parcel of peace,
To hush all the mayhem and grant them release.

A hug isn’t just for when sorrow attacks,
It’s also for moments when courage just lacks.
So squeeze with conviction, be warm, be profound,
A hug is a poem that needs not a sound.

III. Words of the Small-but-Mighty Kind
“Oh dear,” said the teacup, “I fear I may chip,”
Till a kind word arrived with a stiff upper lip.
“You're perfect,” it said. “You still hold the tea.”
And the teacup beamed back with revived dignity.

A phrase, just a whisper, can shatter the storm,
Can nudge someone’s heart back to hopeful and warm.
So toss kind words freely like petals or rain,
They land where they land, and they soften the pain.

IV. The Call to Now (and Never to Wait)
Oh yes, you may ponder, you may delay,
But kindness, my dear, was never that way.
It’s not for tomorrow or someday or soon,
It thrives in the morning, the dusk, and the noon.

So don’t be a waiter in life’s busy line,
Be wildly, ridiculously, wonderfully kind.
You never shall know what your ripple will do,
But I promise you this: it starts right with you.

The Dog bared its fangs in vain,
A desperate try to drive away,
The beleaguering Lamb that trailed behind,
Seeking warmth within its light.

The Sheep sang a gentle tune,
In bleats that sought to welcome in,
The distant Pup that mourned alone,
Born of tempests, weighed by woe.