Day 67: Being Nice

I have often been told that being nice comes with the good and the bad, the balancing act of being nice and something being "too nice". And though I do not know how we achieve comparative degrees to these niceties, we must adapt , we must learn. The simple things , the simplest form of illusion must come from something that is right in front of you, and so must some of the simple realities as we write about them. In the years to come as I play this balancing act, I would have learned to live with degrees and conditions that defines people, I would have learned to be real among the fiction I will write, and if you spot the difference make sure you point it out, for now let me simply be nice

Being Nice
I often wonder about the problems with being nice,
The moment when even giving it all, if too little to suffice.
When the gentle footsteps on the floor, retreat their way home,
They are walking to places where they rest, and places where they belong.

The problem with being too nice must come with no regrets,
No challenges that held you back, no dream you couldn't dream instead
I was simply the best of me, among the very best of you,
But the story ended too soon, and the play was misunderstood too

I hear violin in the warmer winter night; so quiet as it speaks,
It speaks in tunes and hymns alike , and yet finds no reason to repeat.
Your restless nights when you can't find sleep, hear my voice, my lullaby,
Let me keep company to the night, as you find a dream under the night sky

The nicer days, the niceties, even the little pieces I will write sometimes,
Folds up upon that which is overlooked, the little things we often keep aside
We are nothing if not stories in our own book, we are just not written by ourselves,
And the nicer endings, the stories of our life, and the questions that we all must dwell

Like the last solo piece on the violin, the endings are stronger; they leave something behind,
For now the strumming, the picking and the play; are the music I leave you with, in your mind.