James Diao Per.

7 Pessimism

Amid the smog, the cars and the buses A feeble, stumbling old man pushes A small wheelbarrow, rusting and old Filled with garbage, litter and mold The people, strolling past, did not glance At either man, or cart, or filthy expanse And carelessly tossed, to the top of the mass A banana peel, next to some slivers of glass. Auntie, I asked, Why do they litter out there? It wouldnt be hard to throw it elsewhere. Thats true. she replied, Do you think we should? I smiled, and told her, that would be good. And since then, my aunt has never littered again But Ive realized something I didnt know then That in the grand scheme of things, the good is too few To overcome all of the bad things we do. Ive always been told, we can each change the world But cynical realism has taken control The Gandhis and Lincolns are simply not many To compete with the Hitlers and Stalins aplenty I guess Im too young to understand now. But once Im eleven, I want a brown cow.