I continued my stare suggesting a point of view while she copped a dismal.
I took notice of her seven orbs. Each of it once held a prism of colours keenly concocted.
They looked tainted, worn and unwashed perhaps.
How then is she piled in pride despite the tarnish, those unmasked blemishes?
I continued in wonderment and arrived at a halt.
She knew her value, she knew her power, perhaps.
She knew she was helping create masterpieces, doesn't that make her one?
When you are used, you will fray, tarnish and reduce.
My smirking gaze transformed to admiration;
and she looked nothing short of spectacular.
Those spots weren't ugly anymore.
Baring those scars attributed to her majesty