What Makes a Good Person?

This is a poem that I wrote that was inspired by the phrase prompt: the secret of the making of the best persons (from the WriYe DreamWidth).  It was also sort of inspired by the time of year.


Are people born good?
Are they made that way?
Is there a secret somewhere?
Is the idea just too cliché?

Maybe the thing we all should do
Is to show others due respect.
Treat others as we’d want to be:
Like they’re a person, not an object.

Instead of doing something nice
Expecting to have that kindness returned
Just do it because
It’s best for all concerned.

How much different would the world be?
How much better would we all feel?
Maybe it might even help
The wounds of the past begin to heal…


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