There is this one
and she speaks strangely,
A curiosity for novelty,
Or something more?
Will I cast her aside?
Realizing she is nothing,
Draped in shadows of mystery and wonder,
Will I forget her words?
Seeing only beauty in their sound and texture,
Will I find her soul?
Or face instead the blankness of a wasted mind,
Or will she contradict my cynic's pride?
To at least bring me to be humbled
and mourning for the greatness I so assuredly cast away.
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