My Own Fable

I don’t do spectacular

I don’t write perfection

I don’t ride fantastic roller coaster

I don’t play with fairies and pirates


Whoever you think I am

I lay low, and listen to the greats

The ones who share happiness and fortunes

I accept the fact that grey is my future


But at least I know that inside

I’m accompanied by my mind

With hundreds of flickering hearts

Beside me, trying to lift me up


So I have no problem with not being able

To touch things grand, or sit on fantastic tables

My own little circle, where I live in my own fable

Doesn’t matter if I’m the wolf or the turtle,

I’m surrounded by protections and kindness

Maybe it sounds cowardice, but hey human,

When you say perfection, which one do you refer?


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