absorbing other people's thoughts
and hosting them as your own.
God, I really wanted to believe that you had grown,
that the art you make represents your beauty when you're alone.
But you can't even break free of your own confined mentality.
Sneak a peek,
steal some dreams,
represent yourself in individuality
when you have anything but originality.
Stuck in an infantile state
of confusing lust and hate;
mistake a fusion of bodies
for the love you think he's hiding.
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