And sweet ideas are nothing more
Than bitter ones at play;
They skip across the forest floor
And giggle all the way.

They frolic in the ocean swell
And buzz like any bee,
And, when they hear a laughing bell,
They clap their hands with glee.

But I do hard to think like that;
It’s always been a task
To ascertain where life was at
When too afraid to ask.

So, making do without a light,
I turn to face eternal night.

Photo by Gary Scott on Unsplash

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