Be Kind

I'm a marker

Running out of ink.

I'm a jar half empty.

I'm a steel pot

Boiling over, losing

Water plenty.

I am what the voice

Will say, what it tends

To judge.

Burn down life-long


Often troublesome 

To budge.

So while the voice

Of haunted past will

Speak its ugly mind,

I pick through reminders


Noting to be kind.