Page 24

There is a lesson written here
But I have learned the hard way.
If you can choose it, choose it wise;
Don't let them mold you like you're clay.

And in these words I find myself;
My past is storied in these lines.
The rounded letters make me read again
And realize that now I fly.

And those who wrote them must have seen
A truth that others cannot see.
Cause otherwise there'd be less pain
And we would meet more happy kids.

The shapes are less important now;
The lines are drawn just as a clue.
They are not laws, they cannot tell
Of what you should or should not do.