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![Image for the poem My Vanity (partial)](/images/uploads/poemimages/401293.jpg?1604364994)
My Vanity (partial)
... This blaming game is my protection
glazing over my reflection,
when the cause to my demise was not the mirror
But,
My eyes...
I’ll admit, I think I’m sick.
And don’t want to get better.
This bitch will be the death of me.
And I am going to let her.
Couldn’t stand a single pound be added to the frame,
Would sooner eat my finger and then tell her she’s to blame...
glazing over my reflection,
when the cause to my demise was not the mirror
But,
My eyes...
I’ll admit, I think I’m sick.
And don’t want to get better.
This bitch will be the death of me.
And I am going to let her.
Couldn’t stand a single pound be added to the frame,
Would sooner eat my finger and then tell her she’s to blame...
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