All that glitters is not gold

The hopeful eyes of children sold

To the kingdom, To the village

There's something wrong in the village

Glistening spires of cities old

Built by the young 'till they grow cold

With the promise of a beautiful tomorrow

A great one that will keep them from sorrow

All that glitters is not gold

The drying ink of a story told

Still with promise, losing courage

No one reads a tale that has courage

Written by the youth for revenge sevenfold

Breaking away from the cracking old mold

(I finished my manuscript of "The Dandelion Wanderer" and I sent it to the publisher! *excited squealing*)