thought 1

Foolish human. I whisper delicate lullabies into yer ear while ye sleep, and ye love me for it. But, only amongst the night hour. For when the sun is agleam enough to see yer glowing face, ye only dwell on that and forget all of me. Ye tread past me and  can not even see. For the children can, they always believe. A child is not determined by her age, nay, but by her heart.

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