She was not like the sun
Whose rise is so predictable,
She was not like any flower I know
For they only bloom once.
Her eyes were not as deep as the sea
For the sea contains sorrows within
Hers were clear and free of concealed intent,
Like laughing from the heart.
Her singing was not perfect like mathematics,
For hers was clumsy and adorable,
Such as the scribbles the heart writes
When we fall in love.
She was not sculpted to walk the runway,
Nor was she made to be simply admired
By the narrow vision of the human eye.
She was the architect, designer and engineer
Of her persona and she liked what she saw
When she looked at herself with closed eyes
In front of a mirror.
She was an extra letter in the alphabet
And because she did not fit the status quo
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