Dort Dort The Worry Wort.

Dort Dort the Worry Wort

Lived in a world full of worry.

He grew up so fast,

His thoughts couldn’t last—

They’d zip through his head in a scur.

He peeked in the mirror one blustery day,

And quietly asked, “Why am I this way?”

With too many eyes and a squiggly nose,

And feet that were shaped like spaghetti in rows.

“Is this how a monster is supposed to appear?

Or did someone just doodle me wrong with no fear?”

He sighed and he squirmed, feeling odd to the core—

“I don’t look like them. Not even a bit more.”

“I’d love to be loud like the monsters that roar,

With claws that go clatter and feet that shake floors.

Or maybe have wings that flap through the sky…

I’d zoom and I’d spin, and I’d never ask ‘why.’”

“I like how they shine, or how some disappear,

How Bibble glows blue when she’s nervous or near.

Snib always bounces, and Tumbly stays still—

They all have a look, a sound, or a skill.”

“But maybe,” he said, “what makes me me…

Isn’t what others are, but what I can see.

I’m wiggly and wonky and wonderfully wild—

And being myself?”—he paused—“That’s actually styled!”

“There’s already roars, and there’s plenty who shine,

There’s bouncers and zoomers and glowers divine.

But there’s only one me, with my curious view…

And maybe there’s someone who looks up to you.”

“So I’ll wiggle and worry, and laugh when I can—

I don’t have to fit in to stick to a plan.

I’ll be Dort the Worry Wort, honest and true…

’Cause the best thing to be in this world—is you.”

Dort Dort the Warrior is no more now he’s just doped and that’s enough.

THE END.