Am I getting old, and set in my ways;
More critical than need be?
Or is it simply that I know what I like
And am spoiled terribly?
Won't let fluff, or glitter, or noise
Meant as a distraction deceive me
Can't say that it's good when it ain't
I know what's worth applause
And what aims to grieve me
Am I getting crotchety; am I impatient
Should I just keep my mouth closed?
Does every unpleasant occurrence require my input?
I suppose
It's just best to let others be, do, and behave
In the manner that suits their whims
Keep my thoughts to myself; preserve peace
And when all else fails, just excuse them
If whatever they're doing, however they're doing it
Suits their fancies or agendas
I have options to tune out, to opt out, to walk out
Seek out more favorable contenders
For my likes and my preferences
Favorites, and all that floats my particular boat
I don't have to be bored, or indebted to cosign
The stories that someone else wrote
But I don't have to stew, or complain
Or remain in a funk in uncomfortable times
I don't have to negate, or add to my plate
Any task that has never been mine
Just do what I know; do my best and propose
To be as respectful as I can
And know when to comply, and what to oblige
When to bow out, or to lend a hand
With maturity comes a level of tolerance, grace--even mercy
With experience comes a point at which
Tolerance ends for mediocrity
With integrity comes an obligation to tell the unvarnished truth
With wisdom comes the need to remember
That they are simply not you
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