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Chapter 31 - The Mask and the Rose

A face carved in stone by a cold, steady knife,

Trying to capture the essence of life.

To pull at the skin and to freeze every line,

As if a machine could be truly divine.

The lips are too perfect, the cheeks are too high,

A permanent smile that is living a lie.

For beauty that's bought is a beauty that's still,

A statue that's trapped by a surgeon's own will.

But look at the grace in a natural face,

Where time and the years leave a beautiful trace.

The crinkle of eyes when you laugh in the sun,

The story of battles you've fought and you've won.

A rose in the wild isn't symmetrical or neat,

But its flaws are the reason its scent is so sweet.

No needle can capture the glow from within,

The light of a soul underneath of the skin.

For plastic will fade and the fillers will shift,

But natural beauty is life's greatest gift.

Don't trade in your spirit for a porcelain mask,

For to be truly "you" is your only real task.

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