Recently, I just got back into writing poetry again (for the longest time I was somewhat "dry" creatively; meaning I didn't have very much to write about.) Looking back on these past couple of months, I realized that I've been struggling with something that usually comes so naturally to me: loving other people. Not exactly the romantic kind of love, per say, but being kind to others regardless out how they treat you, and not judging someone before you get to know them. This poem describes what I think that kind of love should be, and how I feel I haven't been doing very good with it.
Loving Others
I try my best each day to love, to respect
But what once came so easily has no become a challenge
As I go on with age, and change progress
Reaching out with words of kindness; at times turn to ignorance and silence
Even more so, going about it the right way
Having patience, being kind
Putting others before oneself
To fully forgive and fully forget
To hope, trust, and banish pride
Ultimately never failing
Yet I do fail, whenever I don’t do any of these things
Especially when I feel anger towards another
Wanting something for myself, jealousy
Loving others means to have a tender heart
To take care of the people around you
Even if you don’t get it back
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