poetry of life

Do not trust a mousy person

At some point a pathetic mouse will come to your door

You don’t like mice so much but the pathetic you abhor more

So you feed the mouse until it becomes strong

The mouse smiles and winks at you and knows his battle has been won

Somewhere along the way the mouse becomes a lion in his own mind

Moves far away to search for his own kind

Wish him good luck

And when he returns wish him good luck

But close that door

The floor is clean now

You don’t need dirty paw prints on your floor

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