Popcorn

I hate your golden curls,

the way they get matted when you sleep. 

I hate your boring blue eyes,

the way they look when you weep. 

I hate your sword of bronze,

the way you can call it at your hip. 

When you pass by,

you will sigh a small “hi.”

and

(of course),

I may not be near–

enough to respond

and 

When the world is at its darkest days,

Turn the light on.

When someone is lost,

Find them

Hold them

And assure them

I should've worked harder.

 I should've put the time in.

 If I did more I'd be number one.

 I should've been first.

 Nobody likes second.