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Song of Myself
I believe in myself,
that I will succeed.
I know I can do anything,
that I desire,
once my mind is simply put to it.
I am the conductuctor of the train,
in control of everything,
From the snack car to the engine room.
Wearing my coat with shiny gold buttons,
I feel like what cannot be described.
I'm the second bite of a Twix bar,
giving myself the sweet pleasure of sticky caramel.
I am indeed,
the first letter, word, sentence,
Ever to be uttered from a young toddler's mouth.
Indeed, that special letter,
that every mother waits for,
that lingers,
In the loving mother's heart and mind.
I am the only,
peach rose in the garden,
that differs from each and every other one.
The one everyone picks on, but I ...
I don't care,
not one bit about what they say
I am the moon-
casting the bright white light,
on the peaceful moonlit walks.
My dress,
satin, tantalizing, gorgeous and beautiful.
Ribbons hanging down,
from my hair and body
like ropes hanging down from heaven above.
Where I wait in the meadow, and I wait some more,
to climb these magnificent ropes,
with someone more.
Perhaps a friend, a family member.
Someone to share this special moment with.
I can smell, the lovely white rose,
of the beginning of a new life, a happy life
as well as the frightening black rose of death.
I cannot understand what these mean.
These make no sense to me whatsoever.
For they are different illusions for all others.
Me?
Not me.
I am just me, myself and I.
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