We all love to be praised that's a natural thing
And it makes us feel good when others our praises sing
And the truth can be hurtful would you not agree
At least the truth proves harder to swallow for me,
Few of us like a liar to say so would seem fair
Yet still fewer of us the raw truth can bear
Are they telling us something of us we do not wish to hear?
Most of us are shy of self improvement or so 'twould appear,
Within their own mind the thought some do create
That they are quite special and they feel irate
When others the truth of them to their face tell
They tell them quite rudely you can go to hell,
We all love to be praised that's human one suppose
But show me the garden where one weed never grows.
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