The Fabled Fable
I'd like to tell you of a story, of sorts,
But I'm afraid that it would be a waste of time,
You see, my stories don't make much sense,
But continue reading if you value your ignorance,
Now some folks ask me, of long lost treasures,
And I look into their eyes and say,
You're wasting your time with foolish endeavors,
And that's why toads grow mushrooms in the day,
The trees sway back and forth, at night,
But that doesn't make them wrong,
What would make a tree wrong, you ask?
The fact that chairs don't dance without a mask!
Pirates don't swing their swords around,
And stags don't brush their antlers at noon,
Snake meat is like bear meat, pound for pound,
And snails don't fly without a silver spoon,
A figure of speaking, a speaking figure,
Walked up to me on a midnight day,
He held out his pistol and pulled the trigger,
And as the boulder rolled, the grass grew bigger!
Don't look at me, like you don't understand!
The answer is as clear as pitch,
You have the truth swinging through your hands,
Swinging back and forth, from stitch to stitch,
They frolic in the night, seeking their vengeance,
Biting on the arms, of women and small frogs,
But you have the power to stop them, my friend,
The wish you spent, doesn't have the power to mend,
I think I've said enough, for tonight,
As the crows peck my eyes, clearer becomes the light,
And in the end, you shall see,
What gives me my, notoriety.
Moral of the story, Don't read a poem that clearly states in the beginning that it will be a waste of time.