God, Make Me a Kinder Person
Make me a kinder person, To tip that extra 50 cents & believe it actually will help the young waiter who clearly looks like a non-stem degree college student trying to graduate even after breaking a stack of plates with left over curry on them.
Make me a kinder person, To consider the passenger sitting next to me & not move to another side of the bus where there are two empty seats, especially when all you can hear is air brakes & the driver starts talking about his personal life.
Make me a kinder person, To return the shopping cart even if I have to go the opposite direction of where I park my car & under the typical Seattle weather letting the rain soaks through my newly bought thermal top & finally pours the last sense of obligation on me.
Make me a kinder person, So I can imagine myself in my neighbor’s wrinkling bulldog’s shoes & see why it’s necessary for him to drool & pee on the handmade hereditary wool rug in front of my door every time he takes a walk past by.
Make me a kinder person, & not question why there can’t be more people like me who shows care when I actually care, & be okay with the unkind soul in me, all to find a way to still live on with the minimum wage of kindness.