Poezja

Twinkle, twinkle, in the night.
The darkness comes to see the light.
You cannot give up without a fight.
They tell you this, “You must do what’s right.”

The game is on and you’re a player.
To stay and battle and become the slayer.
The people speak and give a prayer.
The gods throw down another layer.

You fumble for the light in the dark.
A silver glow lights up you mark.
A shine so sweet and so smart.
A slimy river that contains a shark.

Your body’s full of strength and might.
A sure things or a sure blight.
Your spirit’s free, just like a kite.
The gods renown you, you’re such a sight.

The people scream, you’re now the mayor.
And you’re so nice, man you’re a sharer.
A natural giver, you’ll give this and that without a carer.
So full of kindness, no one is gayer.

The gems are twinkling at the start.
Just like your cold, old, shriveled heart.
It’s a true and horrible piece of art.
Twinkle, twinkle, says the meadow lark.