Finding Myself

Paralyzed was she at the splendor night of day.
Sat she,
when looking through her chambers.
No longer hath she felt her bosom beat
through the rhythm of time.
Stood she,
franchised in front of her reflection. 
No longer could she face her structural idiosyncrasies.
Diffidence,
was her grand conflict. 
Still stood she
in front of her conflicted mind,
as she critically analyzed
the beauty that hath she not realized.
This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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