I am a type that believes.
No matter what the world conceives.
I am a kind that abhors.
Those that harm things I adore.
I am a sort that must progress.
Or I’ll create a false redress.
I am a critter that denies.
What is plain before my eyes.
I am a being that will fall.
And from there I will recall,
That I came from something more.
Something I should not ignore.
Something that did not abate.
Something I could never state.
I’ll spin some story, tell more tales,
Until the day I pierce the veil.
Oh, on that day . . . until then,
When I remember once again. . .
I am substantial and I am small.
I was quite human after all.
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