Why shouldn’t we absorb what’s of others?
Or why, from time to time, question our fathers?
You see,
Even If all men would gather their word,
They’d still knew less than any kind of a bird.
True, that not all men are smart, nor all women wise,
But the lesson of life is one, in the end, there is no prize.
Living our lives for ourselves, may be selfish and rude
But without the truthful growth of solitude,
We become, an unsigned rewritten book,
Or an unflavored meal, that you’d overcook.
Again,
Who am I, to judge with a pen?
Let’s face it, not all kings men.
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