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I run my fingers through my hair,
Finding what I am looking for,
I pull my hand away,
Grasping a simple miracle ,
The Bobby Pin

I take it in my sweaty hands
Pulling it apart
Into a straight line.
No longer what it used to be

I observe my invention,
The lock picker.
So simple.
Concealing its talents
To the human eye.

I bend down on my knees,
Peering through the key hole
Wondering if my invention will work
In my greatest time of need.

Carefully holding the tool
I slide it
Straight into the key hole.
Now it is my turn to work.
I press the tool into the door

The handle stands its ground
Every time I twist it
Three times

Its mocking me
Teasing me about locking myself out

I repeat the process,
At the final stage I say a prayer.

The doorknob turns

I have triumphed over the door
The human has taken their rightful place
On top

Triumph sings in my heart

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