make sense of what I am saying, This is a LIE- and that's the TRUTH.
what am I? answer: a Riddle.
When I die I what to have a piece of paper near me giving a clue on how I died, like, "I want everyone to miss me except for this bullet," or," You didn't hang with me but guess what did?"
what do you call a genderless child?
It's not a mister, its not a misses, I'm more for a MIStery
Riddler: riddle me this are you scared of the big black
person: Big black what
Riddler: ...
person: I'm scared of what you mean because you won't tell me what you mean
In the realm of whispers and shadows, Where dreams dance on the edge of reality, There resides a peculiar soul, Known as Alexander Fisher.
With eyes that hold secrets untold, And a heart that beats to its own rhythm, He tiptoes through the night, On a quest to embrace the extraordinary.
His hands, delicate as a feather's touch, Reach out to the heavens above, Grasping at ethereal strands of wonder, In the form of vibrant, floating balloons.
With each step, the balloons whisper, Carrying tales of forgotten dreams, And the untamed yearnings of the heart, Alexander Fisher's silent companions.
He creeps through moonlit streets, An enigma in a world seeking answers, As the balloons trail behind him, Painting the night with magic's hues.
Together, they wander through the darkness, Where imagination blooms and thrives, In a delicate ballet of dreams, Alexander Fisher's fantastical symphony.
The world watches, captivated, By this balladeer of whimsical desires, As he weaves his spell, one balloon at a time, Enchanting souls with his ethereal art.
For in his delicate grasp, balloons become more, They transcend their earthly existence, Becoming vessels of hope and joy, Guiding hearts towards the realm of possibility.
Alexander Fisher, the dreamer, the poet, Creeps through life, a gentle force, With his balloons as his faithful companions, He reminds us to embrace the extraordinary.
