The goat, it ran
With all its might
To escape bearing the blame.

The goat, it ran
Far out of sight
Until it bore great pain.

The goat had thought
It escaped flood
With the cover of night’s veil,
But then, the goat had realized
Blood
Was dripping from his tail.

If you cut a
Gecko's tail off
It'll grow back

If you do
It again
The gecko
Would be like
"Dude.."

Fairies knit tales, but they don’t have tails, I don’t think.  
Dog’s do.
Long,
with an abrupt end – that’s usually moving,
while never escaping its tether.
Is that the idea? – that no matter how far the tail goes,
it will never get out of hand.
Unless it’s docked of course – that is the saddest tail,
a stump of a tail that still tries its best,
but is destined for a short and disappointing end.

If I were a dog without a tail, I think I’d think it was the end of the world.

If I were a fairy without a tale – I would be sadder still.

The End.

I once met a pup
Who liked to chase his tail
Never once did he give up
Determined not to fail

Badly did he want his wagger
Between his little jaw
After he would stagger
And then fall to the floor

Not knowing what he desires
He strives for what he sees
Even when he tires
Knows what he believes

The days comes that I see
His tail and his tongue
Caught between his teeth
All tangled up as one

After 20 million circles
Tail chasing phene
Jumping many hurdles
Not caring where he's been

Finally achieving his dream
He caught what he was chasing
Success as it would seem
The moment he's now facing

The moment he worked hard for
The challenge he accepted
A journey paw after paw
He let it all go in a second!

So early that day, before the rising morn
The prince kneels at the water, sad and forlorn
And his brothers rise with a solution
That to save him there must be an execution

So they hand him a knife, sheen and bare
Traded for their golden hair
And tell him this **** he must complete
And let the maiden’s blood drip at his feet

Only this way could he enter the sea
But the prince knows he cannot agree
For it is not the maiden’s faught
That it is the wrong man she sought

And so the angels of the sky
Hearing his sad, lovesick reply
Seek to show the maiden the wrong obverse
And fly down from heaven to break his mute curse

And so finally he could speak again
And he sprints to the wedding glen
His voice calling to the maiden’s ears
And hearing it, she cries joyful tears

And as their words of love are spoken
The last part of the spell is broken
So that they will forever live on land
The prince and the maiden, hand in hand

every one becomes having long tail
trying not to get *****
wanting to throw away
or hide it at any way

trying to be silent
covering your nose
and do also with mouth

as the world does not bear
your breath
if you still go on that road
which was not faith and had bad fault

expecting the worst comes
and the world will wish you to be absent