The best are boring. Usually, that is.
They always know what they are doing next,
Write perfect papers, ace the daily quiz,
Understand the world, are never vexed,
And dance across the world as in a dream.
Sometimes those people make me want to scream,
But then I wonder: what must it be like
To never worry, never have a doubt,
To see disaster coming down the pike
And know it's not for you? To only shout
Because of joy, not sorrow or despair?
Does happiness become monotony?
It must be hard to joy and never share
Because you worry about others' jealousy.
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