#92

We all have our own story,
each one
lighter or worse.

Yet no matter how
grim, dark,
bright or simply put happy
a person's tale,
none matter more than one's own.

The rest,
in our own selfish interest
of looking through colored lenses,
is more trivial,
less appealing,
not much so intriguing,
without novelty,
paling far too much in comparison,

once, after all,
our innocence has waned.

We all have to grow up, anyway.

Me, you, or anyone else
looking out for one's own
is simply the only truth.

Nothing else,
truly ever,
matters.

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