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.