Choose

To a few I’m the girl that got away
Some think I have way too much to say
There are those that will always want to know me
While some have no capacity to see
To him I might be an angry erratic artist
To her a whitebread silver spoon racist
To one I am everything he will ever need
To another a companion used only to breed
For some I will always be just out of reach
For others I will never be a place to preach
So you tell us which version of me
Is the last one that you choose to see

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