Reflection On Losing What Matters Least
I found the key to the lock of my heart,
twas heavy, once golden,
the patina of disuse had turned it burnt-pink,
like a flamingo's wing snagged on a sunbeam.
Heart was bound-up in ages old silk
farmed from spiders raised on butterfly milk;
Lock oiled with the red of a wicked rose;
Gushing, and finally free,
the stupid thing latched immediately onto he
and just like that;
Imprisoned.
"Umm, Miss,
you must be mistaken,
I only wanted part of it,
the part that loves my dangly bits
would've have done,
or just the tip is enough,
I don't need,
you give too much.
oh
what's that you were saying,
I've forgotten."
After this battle fought and lost,
I said to the mirror,
"Too bad you're old,
sad, and short on sense."
and it replied,
"Too true, it's true,
but you are so damn
beautiful!
it makes up for that.."
so there we go,
reinventing the mirror.


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) and then the speaker underines the mirror.
