I always found ratios fascinating,
How somehow it amounted to perfection after equating.
How somehow it amounted to perfection after equating.
Soon I realized our days aren’t easy as maths,
Trying to find a solution to all our problems would turn us all into psychopaths!
I picked yellow nail paint on a bright summer afternoon,
For a nice day with manicured hands would certainly be a boon.
Ran out of the sunny color with a fingernail still left naked,
That, is when this poem was created.
As we transition into adulthood with responsibilities on our mind,
Are we as content as we show ourselves to be, or is it simply a blind?
A little inch always holds us behind with the baggage we carry,
In the end, we are truly only nine parts happy!
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