My Thing I one time owned a thing, A fantastic thing, Timeless and clean, with neither a scratch nor ding, With the thing, my heart raced, Jumping gleefully from place to place, Why, this thing’s presence was a saving grace. Owning the thing gave me face, and without haste, I bragged of my thing, and my good taste, Think not this thing o so great The thing was a complete waste, tampering my youthful and foolish fate. Renowned was I, my talents known far and wide, my gut now demoralized in feverish pride, As I was beside myself, Once only another book on the shelf, now a star, Dismay I felt, my soul gone afar amidst all this wealth. The plot always thickens, one thinks, " His name is Charles, surely he is Dickens." I neither write nor fright as Marley once did, I am just a kid, in others presence I shrink NOT SOMETHING TO EXITE WHEN IN SIGHT, MY THING SHINED NO BRIGHTER, than the pale moonlight… I am wise of the world now, people come to me, from old men to little girls, This thing has brought about all I despise , So long saving grace, Now I am a runner who has lost pace, A toddler in outer space… As I lie on my floor so empty, I try to make sense while deeply in thought, of what having is, that piece of mind is not..Birth sign: Capricorn
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