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I am a shining statue sitting on the shelf, an

ostentatious mark of the achievement of those

who are not me, but own me. I am not flesh and blood,

but silver and gold and time already told. There

is nothing else to me but pretense and victory- I am

not a collection of emotion, sentiment, love, nor care.

People are not proud of me, but the idea of me.

I am a trophy and a victory, not nurtured and cared for.

I am not a son, brother, relative, nor lover. I will never

be more than the metal that encases me or the

polish that has been applied to me. There will never be,

for as long as I live, anyone more proud of me than me.

But the idea of me, that is something revered and cherished.

That is the shining statue sitting on the shelf.

I am the spirit let loose in the wind.

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