Pride, it sticks.
Location
It’s a list of things
That goes on forever,
But gets smaller as it goes,
That describes who I am.
Every part of the list,
Looks at itself as on a ladder,
And climbs the hill to be larger.
Of course I do what I can,
To manage my list,
Pushing down what I know is sin,
And pulling up the traits that are good.
It is, in the end, what makes us,
Our list, so good care I bid
To all who listen, to take care,
Of our list of things.
As time goes on, our list can change
And I want my list to look better.
While I can hide my list,
Lie about its contents,
That action itself only makes my list uglier.
But to show my list of things,
Regardless of what it bears,
To be proud of myself;
That’s one thing I can do,
To make my list,
Something I can be proud of.
This poem is about:
Me
Our world