The Mythbusters Proved You Can Polish a Turd

I rub my lump of self esteem

until it shines like a cow’s eye,

hacking out facets, shaping a perfect

replica of the Heart of the Ocean,

and when I weld it, wear it on my tiara,

I declare myself the Prettiest Pretty Princess

and flip the game board, making

the mold-injected, semi-pearlescent

demi-gem trash that serves as an insult

to my craftsmanship mere shrapnel.

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