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Sometimes not having
The responsibilities
Of being grown-up
Is better than those times when
You can rule the entire world.
Dreams taunt me at night,
Attacking my mind in hordes,
And I wake tattered.
What does it mean when I run?
And when with good I wrestle?
Go to sleep, my child
Pay no mind to the dark night
Close your eyes, my child
I am holding you so tight;
I'll hold on with all my might.
There's too much in me
To let it all out on you
And besides, you say,
You're not that important now
It shouldn't matter to you.
Six
Tempted to get up
Even though it's only six
I'm ready to go
And I think that it is time
Yes, I think that it is time.
If you don't know why
what you write isn't that good
It is too little
And you didn't think enough
Or it's too much, and you *thought.

— The End —