This man, a creator, was happy alone,
Not socially inept but always working at home,
Remarkable man who made life size puppets,
Of every human likeness for a few ducats.

One day he made his finest work yet,
The most feminine and beautiful of the set,
This puppet was perfect to his eye,
He looked upon his work with a happy sigh.

The genius began to praise his work himself,
The puppet attracting admiration all by itself,
As often the brain compliments its own work,
Blind and never giving itself credit, is it’s curse.

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