My mother used to read my old fables,
They would make me wonder during nightfall,
I'd lay awake till I wasn't able,
For the tale's message I'd try to recall,
As I got older I felt as a ghost,
I'd recalled the tale's that made me so high,
And the one that I remembered the most,
Was Chicken-little and his falling sky,
As I recalled I thought to myself that,
Maybe my sky was not falling at all,
Though I had no one to turn to at last,
For growing up is not easy at all,
As I stood I saw stars fall in the night,
I thought maybe chicken-little was right.