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In a little village in the north,
On a mountain that reaches for the heavens,
Lives the snow thief.
On cold nights,
When the snowflakes spill from the clouds,
The snow thief scared the clouds,
To his mountain they go.
I see a little butterfly,
His only dream
To fly,
From one flower to another
In his short little life.
Today another bird will see the light,
Slowly it will be tought to fly,
To sing
And to have fun.
In the short life
It lived so far.
But unlike them,
That human child
His life many times the bird’s or butterfly’s
Cries in a corner of his room
His life heading towards doom.
Even with human’s longer life
Dreams for him hardly comeby.
And even when,
Human got some
Falte likes to have it’s fun.
For some,
Dreams come and go
Like river’s waters
Reality forces them to go.
But for a little
Unfortunate soul
Dreams overflow
Confusion takes it’s roots in him.
Leaving his brain to overheat.