“Cloaked in Lies”

In a class where numbers swirl and twirl,
There’s a boy with curls, a charming whirl.
Named after a sage of math’s grand lore,
He weaves his tales, leaving friends wanting more.

With arms that gestured and words that spun,
He dazzled the crowd, a trickster’s fun.
Once, a bright girl with a book in hand,
Saw through his charm and chose to stand.

Determined to show her he’d rise above,
He studied hard, fueled by lost love.
In exams, he plotted a clever scheme,
To outsmart the girl, to reclaim his dream.

Yet in the latest test, truth took the stage,
Revealing the layers of his clever façade.
His friends, once swayed by his playful guise,
Found clarity in scores, opened their eyes.

He sought the approval of a teacher wise,
Yearning to prove he was more than disguise.
But the truth is a mirror that cannot lie,
In the end, it’s the heart that learns to fly.

So here’s to the boy with curls so bright,
A lesson in honesty, a quest for light.
For in the dance of numbers, we often find,
The greatest equation is being true to one’s mind.
In the end, he thrived in shadows he’d weave,
For the truth was a trap, and he’d never leave.

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