The Shiny Guru said she ought
To stick to positive-style thought,
That this would help her to become
Some kind of hero super-mum.
And so she tried it for a while,
Threw back her shoulders, forced a smile,
Used the words 'awesome', 'love' and 'yes'
And tidied up the kitchen mess.
And at the start, or so it seemed,
Her personality now gleamed.
Some other faux-shiny type fellows
Began to say 'You're doing well-os'.
But beneath the surface, something nagged,
Like a piece of wool that had got snagged
On protruding nail of honesty.
She could not stay blind for long, you see.
Denying one half of existence
With positivity insistence
Was like narcotics from a dealer.
Deep down she could not help but feel her
Connection to the whole of life,
Sometimes joy, sometimes deep strife,
Triumph and tragedy together,
The summer and the winter weather.
And whatever drug she chose to take,
Its high was ultimately fake.
Every trip to Shiny Town
Ends with the thought-wave crashing down
So with this new insight in hand
She took the bus to Acceptance Land
Where they didn't need super-shinyness
Just her as herself, no more, no less.
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