Me, Rewritten
I am a pink circle
One that cries and one that listens
I can be taciturn like the snow that falls slow
I have always been an observer
But I have grown to be a low-toned talker
I used to be a rotten fruit
But never enough to be a shining star
Now I am a handcrafted gift and a broken vase patched together by glue
I want to be a statue made from lovingly worn hands
But I will always be books that never close
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