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I was writing a poem
When my friend said to me
"That truly sounds amazing
Is it really you?"
I swelled up with pride
Quite visibly so
A poet?
I say
How wonderful
I know
I snatched up my poem
And strutted around
Showing it off
As much as I could
That fatal proverb
Came to my mind
"Pride comes before a fall"
I banished the thought
As I took the paper out
For the hundredth time
Snatched it
Right out of my hand
I dashed around
But the wind was too quick
It flew away merrily
Out of my sight
A tear welled up
I wiped it hastily
For it was my own dear fault
My pride and me.
My second piece, and it still feels weird, It''s still not quite there. It's still not quite okay.
6158 Launches
Part of the Poetry collection
Published on March 28, 2015
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