It’s hard to be nice in a world that’s so sharp,

Where smiles are masks and silence an art,

Where gentle hands are taken for weak,

And the softly spoken lose out when aggressive men speak.

When you give warmth it’s like a candle in a storm,

But as we know the wind doesn’t give a damn for such a delicate form,

You hold your tongue when a torrent would win,

However, it’s called defeat when you hold it all in.

Still, something within you just won’t let it die,

That obstinate hope, you just can’t explain why,

Your inner voice says, “being nice is not just for show”,

It’s a seed that you plant, to help all of our tomorrows to grow.

So, yes, it is hard, it cuts, and it stings,

But grace it is forged in much tougher things,

And being so nice though it makes its strange mark,

Is a quiet rebellion for all of us to start.