My own Ecclesiastes

I think the real truth is, that there really isn’t any. The colors you see in the rainbow are simply different shades of gray. The stars in the sky at night twinkle just to fool you. Happiness is so fleeting it seems like a vapor rising off the warm waters on a cold morning. The heart which starts out so tender and innocent, finds itself hardening under the constant barrage of skepticism until it seems it must turn to stone to protect itself.

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