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Many are the forms
In which we hide
Many are the forms
Of all our pride

There’s the warrior
Fierce and just
Keeping the rule and
Society’s dust

Another is the thinker
Who brings progression
Creating many a gadget
Yet living without passion

But many don’t have
Something of them
They hide behind screens
And think they’re a gem

I’m now the poet
For I drank from the well
That brought me inspiration
To cast words as a spell

There’s the artisan
That shapes beauty from clay
We’re all in disguises
And life’s our play

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