written by: The Quiet Quill
What a thing it would be to be you,
What a joy it must be, what a life,
To speak truths that no one dares question,
To be the holder and creator of such lies.
What a thrill it would be to be you,
What a power you have to cast spells,
Making awe-filled flocks follow you around,
While you play King of paradise so very well.
What a wonder it would be to be you,
What a way you have with illusion,
Appearing so decent, so noble,
All the while filling minds with delusions.
What a job it would be to be you,
What a skill to re-write history,
To keep track of the tales that you tell,
What a real pleasure that must be.
What a game it would be to be you,
What solemn words of fast thoughts you speak,
Your strategies of play are exhausting
And some day soon they will make you weak.
What a chore it would be to be you,
What a waste of life’s good energy,
Please, stop parading and simply start being,
And maybe you’ll see how you lost me.
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