E. E. Cummings, in spite of everything.

in spite of everything
which breathes and moves,since Doom
(with white longest hands
neatening each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds

-before leaving my room
i turn,and(stooping
through the morning)kiss
this pillow,dear
where our heads lived and were.

I like this poem because I feel it expresses the truth of pretending and reassuring, masking our bad thoughts and emotions with those that are good.