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Feb 2012
If I were a painting
hung upon a wall, be I a
painting of flowers, ships or sheep,
it would be of no major concern.
For should my owner have a change
of season, he might remove me
and put another, perhaps more
sought after painting,
I hang on feelings and ratings,
though I am skilfully crafted,
my flaws determine whether
I should rise or fall.
This poem is a comment on humanity as a whole or aspects of it.
Anderson Ritchie
Written by
Anderson Ritchie
502
 
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