I seem to write a lot of poems, lol. I wrote this one on another website too. But just to be clear, this poem isn't about anyone. It's just some random idea I came up with. Enjoy!
(BTW, do you think I should change the title? I think it sounds kinda weird.)
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Some, say, 60 years ago, we would trust a milkman.
We would trust that he would bring our daily dairy delights.
We trusted that the milk was uncontaminated.
We would let him on our porch, and sometimes into our homes.
We would barley even know him.
He could be a killer.
But we trusted him.
He could poison the milk.
But he didn't.
We still trusted he'd bring it everyday.
Without a question.
Well, times have changed, and we get our own milk now.
But the mailman still brings our mail.
We trust him with our most private lives.
College acceptances, get well cards, bills, everything.
We just trust him like it's no big deal.
Someone's most personal secrets can be discovered through mail.
The mailman can easily dabble into our personal lives.
But we trust him not too.
And he doesn't.
Without a doubt.
It's funny how we trust strangers.
Mailmen, milkmen, etc.
But the funny thing is, those strangers usually don't let you down.
The milk gets to you house untampered.
The mail arrives unread.
But the people that we are the closest too,
The people that we trust the most, like friends,
Seem to let us down more often then not.
They are the ones who'd poison the milk and read the mail.
We throw our trust out at random strangers
And they prove that we should.
But the people we trust the most let us down the most.
It's ironic.
But when you think about it,
It's the milkman's and mailman's job to be trusted.
They would be fired if they poisoned the milk or read the mail.
But our friends, the people we trust the most,
Don't get paid to keep our secrets.
So the question is,
If the milkman didn't get paid, would he poison the milk?
If the mailman didn't get paid, would he read the mail?
If we paid our closest friend to keep our secrets, would they?