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| You may
see me and look away, repulsed by my disfigurement.
You may see me as a waste of time, a waste of money. As I feel like the filly of old, I enter this ring of death With all the youth I've stored up for just this occassion. I whinny for appreciation, was that me I heard? For the sound I hear echoing is the sound of something worn and old. I see no applaudinng faces, no hope do I detect. Instead I feel a sense of dread with each and every step. I am strong,
I've got spirit, but my bones "lie" before me.
You may
see me as old and worn, but please do look again
"In this
world, there are many jewels under the ground,
(I couldn't
end this poem like this, so in honor of my 40 year old
As a treasure
hunter, I found this jewel,
Written & Contributed by Susan |