I am the fool,
whose words but a tool,
to insult your pride,
bringing out feelings from inside,
it only a piece of you,
will merge to anew,
unless you attack,
longing for it back,
but it twas never there,
yet you protected in with such care,
finding comfort in known,
you hide on your throne,
but all seasons pass,
bringing in fresh grass,
new stories to be told,
to help your understanding unfold
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