The ones like the twos. The twos like the ones. The cleave to each other like silverware stacked in a drawer.
They think I'm a one. Most do. But I'm a three. I walk past twos and ones all day. I like the ones. But they don't like me. They like the twos. Some twos like me but I don't like them.
Then one day out of the ocean of ones I found another three. Then I realized we all had been hiding among the ones. The odds were never in my favor but just knowing that in the sandy beaches of ones a few threes hid, made it bare able. I can never tell if someone is a three or a one. But I can hope.
So which number are you?
They think I'm a one. Most do. But I'm a three. I walk past twos and ones all day. I like the ones. But they don't like me. They like the twos. Some twos like me but I don't like them.
Then one day out of the ocean of ones I found another three. Then I realized we all had been hiding among the ones. The odds were never in my favor but just knowing that in the sandy beaches of ones a few threes hid, made it bare able. I can never tell if someone is a three or a one. But I can hope.
So which number are you?
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