To see what you do,
The great things about the world,
That filter through you,
That have nothing to actually do,
With the things that they see:
The half-filled tank and unpainted walls,
And your lack of creativity,
Until the day that you are very old,
And have nothing left to prove,
Or money to show for it.
Or need to be approved.
Oh, and it's alright,
That you actually have something to say,
Your tree fell in a whole other forest,
And can only be found where it lay.
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