James Mclain Poet Rhyme

Extremely Nice People

They have come from the dim rooms of sorrow,
Where light was rationed and laughter broke like glass.
They have slept beside betrayal,
And woke to its perfume of ashes and iron.

Their smiles are stitched with memory’s thread,
Each gesture mended from the cloth of loss.
They have been burned,
Yet they offer warmth.

They know the texture of cruelty’s hand,
The weight of a promise dropped in winter.
So when they touch you, it is with care,
As if your soul were a wound they could not bear to reopen.

They recall every small humiliation,
Every word that sliced and stayed.
From those scars they learned gentleness—
A dangerous tenderness that disarms.

They kill with kindness,
Their weapon a cup of tea,
Their armor—listening.
They bleed empathy,
They breathe forgiveness.

Do not mistake their softness for surrender;
It is the strength of those who have died and returned.
They know what not to do,
And that is their quiet revenge.

Love, for them, is not a luxury—
It is survival in a velvet coat.
Extremely nice people,
The angels with broken wings
Who still remember how to fly.

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