Poem 3
𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝,
𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲,
𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐩.
𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫-𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞,
𝐒𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬.
𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞,
𝐒𝐨 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐞.
𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬,
𝐒𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤
𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥.
𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.
𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝,
𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲
Written by @idarksam
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