I am who I am,
the little man struggling for growth.
What do you term this?
A tale of two,
told by four.
Here, falsehood stepped in and the foster news turned true.
About the little boy who found the dance hard.
Hope and ambition, it was always he and the floor, kissing soles to ties. Fate kicked him on the ass hard.
About the little boy who wanted to be a man.
Growth was the talk so he complained about his shortage.
He wasn't cheated. His height got into in his head.
Well, he was low agewise. Would that make sense to tag this short age?
He had the big belly, brains could have been the focus.
He had the big jelly. Aim at the point and blow. You become the star man, the focus.
He had the big Teli screen, wide enough to picture a picture, give life to imaginary lines, pin point and kiss point till his dots meet. All facts were established about how well the little boy had dreamt about tomorrow.