White Elephant Sale

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I am not the indolent, impotent child you see in me,
Though I cannot dream up a romantic, perfumed simile,
Like a sparking, regal gem suspended on a delicate chain.
My jewelry is garish and displeasing to gauche eyes.
You cannot look past it and into the breast behind.
You will never know what treasures call my heart home,
Nor will you become familiar with my cellar's skeletons.
I beg you to crack the lid on my lonely, homely jar,
For I assure you that within, I am quite sweet.





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