Okay guys here's the poem that has been long overdue!
The tree that wasn't tall
Stood silently alone
Looking shorter by the minute
'Front the fancy suburban home
The rock that wasn't gray
A leader in it's river
The keeper of the land
Quiet, silent giver
The sun that wasn't hot
Rises from the setting stars
An opposite reaction
To the ending of the moon
But where amidst all this does come
A glimpse of commonality?
To see the uniqueness of each hand
A fingerprint never the same
What truly is normality?
And who's to say what's right or wrong
When all perfection lies in relativity?
And nothing is but wrong
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