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The bug can be dangerous.

The mannerisms can be damning.

The social media influences in ways that make you wonder.

I just cross things off my list one check mark at a time.

You hear their voice

So often

That even alone

You hear them

Tell you what to do

What to say

Even how to act.

Can I be a good person

If I know I am doing good deeds?

Yes, recognition would be nice

But it makes me happy

Doing the little things

That make them happy.

I still hear the pastors’ voice

Saying good deeds

Will only be recognized by God

If they come from the heart

And not the head.

How can I not think about helping others?

I think I would rather

Be nice

Than forced to be someone

Who only does them

Because authority tells them to.

There is always a choice.

What to say.

What not to say.

Sometimes the silence is an answer.

Whether compliance or obvious.

What you say gets you to the circumstances that you do not want to be in.

Works get stolen.

Internet is free.

How no one sees the effort.

Behind the curtain.

I try to run free.

Interest is not there.

Attention.

Pets.

Snuggles.

Naps.

Purrs.

Head bumps.

But most of all, Neck Scritches.

Grey Areas are rife.

Good intentions are not always enough.

Put the effort in.

Even if you don’t have much.

Sometimes that is good enough.

The world turns.

It can be glittery.

Star studded.

Underneath are the unhoused.

Overlooked.

Ignored.

People you see

And those you don’t.

Today is tired.

It is unraveling.

Life is difficult.

I yearn to create a strong weave.

Yet, I find myself watching

As the the strands drift away

Out of my reach.

Ragged and torn I cry silently

As my world is ripped further apart.

The time between each

is what makes them a treat.

The quantity does not matter

though the quality sometimes does.

A treat is whatever makes you happy

for a short time before life comes back

and you have to rejoin the hordes of mayhem.