When you walk through the door,
And say hello to me,
With an abashed and quite face,
You look to them with no word.
No kindness to offer that comes to a hello.
You give them nothing,
And are there seeming just for show.
Its a matter of respect of the little things,
And that is what we appreciate.
I know they don't matter to you,
But this is how I was raised.
When you dont put forth what is right,
It falls back on me.
And the dissapointment that follows,
From the man you used to be,
With always keep my mouth shut.
For the events that led-
To the man you are today.