did you quite see it?

The second fiddle is NOT GOOD to fiddle with.
Waiting in anxious expectancy. Nervous (butterflies of) happiness in the pit of the stomach.
--But the start is not quite the end.--
Turns to passive (moths of) disappointments in the pit of the stomach.
I can't stomach the extremes of emotions.
The hot, the cold, the cold and the hot,
is nulling my senses to a bare minimum.
Till everything gets shaken up,
like shaken kaleidoscope, you get a different formation with each toss. Nothing quite the same.
But soon, you start to get sick of subsequent tosses.


Anyways,


The boy cried wolf thrice before the villagers apparently got so freaking sick of his cries.
They just left the boy on the mountains for the third time.
You see,
there is a limit to everyone's patience.
Three times a row does it! (hmph.)
Don't push the limit.


For there is always a saturation point for patience,
for which the solvent will no longer dissolve any of it.
It left a stubborn residue.
A residuous boy on the mountain.
Except now it is for GOOD.

--The start is really not quite the end--

i am throwing in the proverbial towel.