It came in a box
Beautifully wrapped, endearingly carved
Majestically presented
Yet
It was chipped
A small flaw that seemed almost invisible
A tiny crack with a fragile stare
Almost oblivion to the eyes of many
A spark without the light
Like music humming in the midst of moonlight
Like starry nights looking back at Van Gogh
It was almost sublime
It was almost honest
Yet
It stood silently, unknowingly
It wrapped its enchantment around the blurring vision
Like dewy drops on a cold misty morning
Like palette of colours swishing in a monotone
It is flawed
Yet
Almost Perfect
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