Once there was a promise
so tightly clasped,
a nucleus, inseparable
magnetic bond.
The promise said:  “I am
your destiny.
Treat me as any dependent child.”
But you forgot a promise had been made.
You believed in a world
owed to you alone.
The promise grew withered, old,
sluggish, barren, wan.
It liked to laugh, so quietly,
peeking down the staircase
at the grown-ups at play.
It never meant to spoil the party
with its unseemly gasping for air.
Quietly it lay, hidden in shadows,
beneath random cobwebs and crumbs.

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