POETRYPOST! VILLANELLED!

[egosumnoah]

‘Do not believe everything you’re told,’
I was warned, with too much left for telling,
‘you’ll regret it later, when you’re old.’

In childhood day-dreams I made brash and bold,
my head, gourd-like with water swelling.
Do not believe everything you’re told.

I thought to fly on paper wings I’d fold,
and somehow the fall fell beyond my foretelling.
You’ll regret it later, when you’re old.

I grasped at lessons with brick-solid hold
and later learned the lesson was a straw dwelling.
Do not believe everything you’re told.

Reason over rhyme, I thought, a thinker’s gold,
but reason is a hammer and nail, and life’s a tree for felling;
you’ll regret it later when you’re old.

I thought I found a world purely true and cold,
or safe at least from my own mind’s rebelling.
Do not believe everything you’re told
You’ll regret it later when you’re old.