She is a cannon, Waiting to fire
She is a bird,Trying to fly higher
She is a copy, waiting to be written
She is a makeup with beauty already gotten
She is a light that burns brighter
She is a demon with sins already died
She is a samurai with blades so sharp
She is an angle with melodious harp
She is a grass where one rolls
She is a beauty which one beholds
She is a clay what the universe molds
She is a mirror for the women of the world
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