I’ll not be laughed at now you see,
For what is there is only me.
I may seem like a joke to some;
Because I’m blond don’t mean I’m dumb.
Decisions aren’t my special thing,
And sometimes I’m not listening.
The funny things you see in me
Are not the joke they seem, you see.
This heart that thinks the best of all,
May set me up for quite a fall.
The landing’s hard for gentle folk,
So hold your laugh, my care’s no joke.
Am I a fool? Perhaps it’s so,
And in the end I’m sure I’ll know
If what befalls a soul like this
Will be like hell . . . or heaven’s bliss.
So once more hold that giggle please,
For ridicule’s a vile disease.
Though not a joke, I seem a fool.
For I live by the golden rule.
To others do not as THEY would,
But treat them as you know you should,
And then the joke will be on those
Whose foolishness now lies exposed.
Gold trophy winner
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