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To others his skin is like soft petals
His face others think has a pretty lovely shape
But, to me his skin feels like fields of nettles
To me he looks like a babbling ape
My mom thinks he is reformed, no disgrace
My dad thinks he is so extremely nice
To me I just want to spray him with mace
I think his voice sounds like a hoard of mice
My brother loves him to come and play
To my sisters his hair is so silky
I myself couldn’t stand him for a day
To me his hair is like spoiled milky
From my grandparents view he seems to float
It seems to me his feet are like a boat.
So you see our views are very different.
We don’t see quite eye to eye.
From worsement to pleasant.
We can’t make our minds as an ally.
You see good I see bad.
In different ways a different youth
We all think the lesser is to be had.
Neither can exist as truth.
But each is a mirror image of the other.
So here is where I end my useless blander.