a poem by Maggie Smith
  1. Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
  2. Life is short, and I've shortened mine
  3. in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
  4. a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
  5. I'll keep from my children. The world is at least
  6. fifty percent terrible, and that's a conservative
  7. estimate, though I keep this from my children.
  8. For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
  9. For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
  10. sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
  11. is at least half terrible, and for every kind
  12. stranger, there is one who would break you,
  13. though I keep this from my children. I am trying
  14. to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
  15. walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
  16. about good bones. This place could be beautiful,
  17. right? You could make this place beautiful.