I hear whispers through silhouettes,
Not shadows, Not flesh.
They tell me things,
From which, Now I begin.
This is the story of a young boy and a fairy tale.
The boy was told some white old lies,
He waited for Evil’s Demise.
But when his expectations were fired
He thought what use is Good, O Sire!
The boy grew to be a man,
He remembered still his fairyland.
The man though now, was sensible
He chose society over such dribble.
Working hard, to fit in;
The man tried very hard to win.
Just as the man was losing faith,
He wished for a fairy in his fate.
Alas, the fairies had abandoned all chance
Of coming back to his ranch.
The man sat crying for his childhood dead,
And the fairies stood there with bowed heads.
This tale is not for you to laugh,
Pay heed to the words, O you daft!