Zorro’s
Sword
Oh that
silly refrain of, at your age
Always
stated by those from a mindset stone age
Look at
them huffing and puffing in misery
Looks to
me like they’re regretful miseries
Usually
they’re filled with self-doubt and guilt
That
friend of anxiety, the frustrated adult
Watch the
complexes they inhabit
Obsessive
self-reflections in their heads are habits
Wicked
tongues that spit schadenfreude arrows
Critical
negatives aimed to inject sorrow
But shock
and horror when you defeat them like Zorro
Confusion
in those faces as they can’t compute you’re toro
Always
good to rise with a youthful spirit
To sing
cheerfully through your life as a positive zealot
No point
to focus on reality’s darkest
When just
one small light will always raise your delight
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