I sit and wonder why my mother says,
‘Be truthful, kind and good always.’
When it seems that everybody tries
To convince me that easier is vice.
I sit and wonder why teachers taught
That morals were worthy; weakness to be fought
When it seems that the real world prefers
To treat them as tales for children’s ears.
I sit and wonder why those stories heard,
Spoke of truth triumphing all,
When it seems that the rest of the herd,
Have given up and let evil befall.
I sit and wonder why I sit and wonder,
What help will only thoughts render?
When it seems that the few who do think so
Do naught but quietly sit and mourn.