It’s easy to become famous, and burdened with riches, in truth, these are all problems, dependent on greed and pride, a result of such actions, to come and go as freely as the wind would be ideal, you’re born and you die unknown, like dust in Kansas, who would care, who would know, if you were a flower, and you managed to bloom, in a greenhouse, behind closed doors, from the world and its view, truly a blessing, to have lived and loved, so much desire can be summed up as such, to understand this is not new, to have bounty outside of envy, your father and sister in closed room, I have such sick humor, alas, it’s how the heavens built me, plucked and placed in the night sky, such a fate, it would spell my doom…

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.