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LF 11h
I become what I hate,
     probably with the stress of late.
A victim of lust and quick attention,
     but a being of my own invention.

The stereotype I so stubbornly resisted,
      the part of me that never coexisted.
I wish for once to be loved not desired,
       but maybe that is no longer required.

I look in the mirror and feel disgraced,
       after all, I only wished to be embraced.
LF 11h
a year. 12 months.
almost.

short of the milestone,
something changed.

i tried to ignore, but
still, ending.

yet maybe it didn't.
or maybe

almost a year, 11 months
led to comfort

that i fear i wont find again.

— The End —