I

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I am blind,
I am told
That I am typical.
But I'm bold
I am mystery.
I am history.
I am a thing,
That turns people's
Misery, on.

Blimey, did they try
To burn my fame.
So I made their ashes fly.
To make my game.
Sleek I'm,
But a fire, they didn't thought.

Their sculpture was old
Their lives were sold
But I'm a living
Sculpture who freezes
Somebody's spectacles to gold
I may be dying
But I am a beauty
That still holds
Within me.


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This poem is about a confident woman, who is strong, independent and sharp. Who knows what she's doing.

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