Meddlers

In a world where silence could sparkle and shine,
Here come the meddlers, so eager to whine,
Like busy little bees buzzing here and there,
They swarm into lives as if they own the air.

"Hey, did you hear?" they declare with a grin,
"The choices you made? Well, let’s not begin!
Your life could be better with just a few tweaks,
Let me share my wisdom; you’ll see in a week!"

Oh, sweet overlords of unsolicited advice,
Your rescue attempts are a roll of the dice.
With judgment so heavy, it’s wearing us thin,
How ‘bout you mind yours? Let our lives begin!

They poke and they prod, like a chef with a spoon,
Tasting our choices, over seasons they swoon.
"Why don’t you change? Wear these pants! Cut your hair!"
As if we all crave the same wild, frizzy flair.

Your pamphlet of life, with each page we see,
Is filled with your fantasy, not meant to be free.
You cluck like a hen, thinking you know what’s best,
But you might want to pause—every heart needs a rest.

So take your grand plan, your chart and your plot,
And shelf it, my friend—trust me, you’re not hot!
For the greatest of lessons, truly it seems,
Is to let go of your grip on our hopes and our dreams.

You want to control? Well, here’s quite the twist:
We flourish in freedom, so please get the gist.
Mind your own garden, water your own blooms,
And step back from the chaos of other folks' rooms.

So here’s to the meddlers, the prying, the push,
The unsolicited input, the overbearing hush.
Next time you think your advice is divine,
Remember this poem—oh dear, never mind!

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anonymous Political October 30, 2024 at 3:26 pm 0 0