Comparison
Sunk its ugly teeth into me
I am sinking under the weight
I can’t seem to escape it this time
She is the Bella Soprano
The delight of all who hear her
I am but the one who cleans the stage
However I thought I might try to hum a tune
I skipped into my adventure
Wanting to listen to songs she’s sung
But now that I’ve heard her up close
I might just keep quiet
I’m sinking
Sinking into my own self-doubt
I’m thinking about exiting
A quick stage left and gone
Alas, the stage needs another clean
ππ»ππ»ππ»
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Thank you Nick π
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As Mark Twain said, βComparison is the death of joy.β
And well written, SecretβοΈ
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So true Nathi. Thanks for your thoughts on this one ππ
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Always my pleasure π
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That inner battle so well described – loved it
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Thank you dear friend π
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My absolute pleasure
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Eh, bella soprano, schmella gitano. ;)) The singing of the stagehand is pure like le moineau; si pur, si intΓ©ressant, si beau. ππ I also feel this way though. May we clean stages, and sing from them, all together, here; flocking together, like birds and butterflies of a feather. π¦ ππ€π¦
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Wild thing, you make my heart sing πΆπ
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π π₯° ππ π π
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Love this poem. Itβs really well written
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Thanks for sharing these thoughts π I’m glad that you liked this piece.
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