A Different Spirit

Stolen is the residual metal in my eyes, But by mere accident, Left in the pocket of an innocent thief. He knows me not as an assiduous empress, As if I’d miss my precious polished swarf. As if a link ceased from my eyes to my heart. A benevolent heist he leads. His artillery compassion, devotion, appreciation, For me. A gentle gesture perceived a plague. Tortured am I from dreams of an infantile box, Rife with the metal from my eyes, No, I will not be betrayed by this insidious plot Yet, courageously he remains steadfast Like the Unique Spirit, he ignores my rants of terror, I cannot hold guns like a Texan Like a Hoover plebeian spitting on shoes, My metallurgist values dull osmium. What is so special about glittering gold?