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.