Fools deny the existence of giants
Their minds have modest, confined dimensions
Their worlds are formed from mundane elements
They have small, arid imaginations
Some of us are familiar with monsters
We've felt their hands around our gasping throats
We know they will resort to vile measures
To sink our fragile, tempest ravaged boats
Cruel, cunning traitors; vicious liars
They mourn our triumphs and love our failures
They kill our dreams and mock our desires
Of remembering our faults, they're masters
When you best a monster, keep evidence
For the skeptics, and your own confidence
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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