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The Magician
One moment you tower
above me in splendor,
I'm cowed by the image
you seem to project,
but then you're a small child
in need of a mother,
one moment you're regal;
the next you're abject.
My shape-changing hero,
I worship your strength
and amazed at your innocent
sweet intellect,
I find you attentive
beyond comprehension.
The next day you treat me
to utter neglect.
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Poetry: Longing
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