The Fox And The Sheep Poem by Duncan Standard

If I ever I were to tell you how your feelings made me feel,
Remind me.
Tell me the story the lamb told the fox as it was being skinned.
You remember that one right?
The one where he tells him exactly how,
"Remembaaaaaah, "
Ha,
"That haircut the farmaaaaaaah, "
Ha
Ha
"Gave me last fall? "
Okay,
Sorry,
"Faaaaaaaaaah? "
Ha,
Ha...
Ha.
I'm not sure what a sheep's,
voice,
would,
sound,
like...
I'm sorry about the mess.
Not in my room,
Not in the political sense.
Just inside this head.
I have a selfish streak that I intend to break,
Because...
You are so far out of my league that,
I,
Don't even,
Deserve,
to hear,
your voice.
Ha.
I made this about me again.
You.
Are.
A.
Goddess.
Daughter of the earth mother.
With your hands,
Creators of beauty.
Each time you pick up a pen,
Pencil,
Marker,
Paint brush...
Clay...
Your eyes,
That can make a person wish they were a dwarf with six tiny little dwarven friends who loved to whistle and mine gemstones for them to look at because they have a bet going with their heart that even that wouldn't be as beautiful as staring,
Ha,
Into your eyes and telling you that they love you.
Or seeing you smile when they tell you,
That all of this.
Every,
Single,
Thing,
Is because you deserve better.