#copycat
And I know time isn’t in our hands.
Still move with life, or watch it move
on without you. Either you walk with
time, or time walks away from you.
They gave you a one-star review for
your love, judged your heart, spat into
your scars, dragged your name through
the mud. Still, don’t paste their words
onto your heart.
Because when you live a better life, they’ll
circle back to copy. You’ll ask yourself,
“why do the ones who once overlooked
me now want to over-book me… or cop me?”
All the seconds you felt like sloppy seconds
will become the taste of their main course.
And what they called leftovers is the meal
they'll hunger for the most.
__Remember:__
Time is a thief, it steals your hours, your hope,
your years. But don’t let wasted time rob you
of what’s real. Don’t let it steal the reason you live.
Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 4:00 AM UTC
"So the pen is mightier? who'da'thunk'it."
He said to the bleeding man tied down
to a messed, stained, bed.
The bound man figured,
even though he just got
to an LA plagued
by criminals, killers, and copy-cats,
that he wasn't getting out of here whole,
finally.
Holding a pen knife,
red-faced and sweating,
was his captor.
It had been a struggle
to awake and realize
who stood before him:
Quill.
The exact killer he'd been looking for.
He had heard about him in the Halo Herald,
An LA pun, it's not very popular,
but he liked the funny section.
"Are you just going to stand there?"
The bound man says, eagerly,
"Hey bud, you're the hanged man,
I'll do the talking."
"It's about time!"
"huh?"
"I'd been waiting.
heard you'd be at that
open mic. Knew you liked
the mealy type."
"Shuddup or I'll write you off."
Quill runs his pen knife over the bound man's right cheek.
"Stings a little.
Usually, I start with a rufie
and emotional damage.
But it looks like you
want to cut to the chase.
I'm a man of a similar mind.
spirit.
problem."
"Nobody's like me dude."
The bound man locks eyes with Quill.
"What're your trophies? huh?
I read you like to drain your victims,
cook'em dry.
don't you use their blood and powdered remains as ink?
Short stories or something?"
"Oh, an avid reader?! it's your lucky day:
you get to be part of the collection!"
The lamp nearby tumbles
to the floor as Quill lunges,
ready to ****
"Wait! Don't you want to know who I am!"
"Not really."
"I'm a ser-"
The sentence is finished by
nothing but the sound of blood
and air
gurgling
into places it was never meant to be
as Quill's blade passes through flesh.
"Pfft, what, you think you're special?"
Quill saunters over to the sink.
"I'd hate to waste ink.
but there'll be more.
there's always more.
isn't that right, Celine."
he says to no one
and stands there with a smirk
as if listening to her.
Oct 15, 2022
Oct 15, 2022 at 2:22 AM UTC
on gaining entry to
the Whitehouse's
accommodation
the now president found Obama's
past policy
presentation
he's reprised the Obama
plan in a replica
fashion
and has even adopted Obama's
acolytes with an abundance of
passion
there's no doubt about
the emcumbent's
credentials
they sure bear a striking resemblance
to Obama's copycat
stencils
Apr 26, 2021
Apr 26, 2021 at 6:15 AM UTC
As a copy, I find it difficult
To the chase such expectations
Every action is closely dictated
To mimic the original's intentions
Limiting precision and accuracy
Leaves no freedom of expression
I am only an embodiment
Of some product imitation
Every movement I call my own
Only causes more frustration
Because it strays from what is known
Like a phrase lost in translation
What if I was the original?
No longer seen as a mutation
To be the focus and not forgotten
To be the object of admiration
But I am merely just a shadow
A silhouette born into submission
Lost in darkness, behind the light
Cursed with a muted motivation
Mar 20, 2020
Mar 20, 2020 at 2:49 AM UTC
Find a new wardrobe
Hide my old face
Take time out of my schedule
To find my new place
Maybe I’m still full of life
Full of hope and out of time
I’ll make me,
Take me,
Fake me better
And I’ll do it all for you
Nov 17, 2019
Nov 17, 2019 at 3:06 PM UTC
In the quitest corner of her bedroom
A woman stares back at the mirror
Wearing the latest dark lipstick on trend
With her near perfection sharp arced eyebrows
And her three inched high heels,
She stood there amazed yet unsatisfied
Not only on her outer being but also for her soul,
Even with all the planned efforts she made;
Regardless the sleepless nights of pure thinking;
Imagining possible outcomes for her definition of beauty
Unsatisfied she started to flip from pages to pages
Of magazines of models and celebrities in their best glamour
She imagined herself in those shoes and glamorous dresses
Gradually she added jewelry unto her bare skin
And painted her pale face with pink blush and mascara
She became a silent imitator, a copycat in other people's dictionary;
An imitation derived from the motivation for beauty
She saw upon the perfect photograph of a photoshopped model on the front page;
She have become so focus to others à la mode fashion
She failed to remember her own creative manners of beauty
This goes on and on and on, it felt like forever;
Then the once creative young lady became just like everyone else
Up to date with the latest beauty trends;
Just like everyone, it inevitably sugar coats her insecurities aside
And progressively concealing her own uniqueness.
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 6:41 AM UTC
Copycat, copycat.
Mimic all that I do,
Even though
you know
it's not good for you.
Copycat, copycat.
Do not be a fool.
You can fool
So many people.
But not me;
I will not drool
All over you.
Copycat, copycat.
Giveback my life.
No, I do not care if copying me is how you survive.
No, I hate you a lot... so goodbye.
Copycat, copycat.
I shouldn't call you so:
You're a ***** and I hope that you know.
I appoint you head ***** from now on.
Bam! Scram!
It's about time that you've gone.
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 9:21 PM UTC
you took my words
when you wrote my poetry
but with prettier words
and painted my art
with more vibrant colours.
you took my friends
because they were sick
of the vulnerable me
and they found your fake smile
was much better than truth.
you took my trust
the night i had to cry alone
because although you heard
my voice break when i called
you still chose to yell over me.
just how much more
do you need to steal
from an already broken girl?
are you scared that if i am whole,
my stars will shine brighter than yours?
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 8:53 AM UTC
We grab our blades,
and go to war.
You cut me up,
and I cut you more.
I beat your arms,
while you flood my head.
**** out your words,
and I drown instead.
Yet you've no bruises,
mine are as dim as night.
They say it's just darkness,
but they can't see your eyes.
You mutate reality,
and I only help.
"Can I get better?"
I say; and, farewell--
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 8:39 PM UTC
Why are you copying me?
Doing everything I do.
I've seen the way you act,
And this will be nothing new.
Why are you copying me?
Doing everything I do.
What about my opinions and thoughts
Are you after those too?
Why are you copying me?
Doing everything I do.
I don't think you realize,
The hell I've gone through?
Why are you copying me?
Doing everything I do.
Even if you try as hard as you may,
What you portray will not be true.
Why are you copying me?
Doing everything I do.
I'm hurting and broken inside,
but I cannot pass that on to you.
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 6:32 AM UTC
Could you find your own identity
And stop trying to be me
I am sick and tired of trying to
Swallow back my words
In order to avoid me being a part of
The herds
Others who
Who all look the same.
Could you please find you own identity
I am sick of you trying to be me
Sick of you mimicking me
Sick of you trying to do
All that I do
And passing it off as your own.
Where has uniqueness gone?
And why do you
Regard me with scorn
As if you are the one who
Hadn't succumb to
Stealing another's identity
Oh would you please stop trying to be me?
Be you
Do you
Do not compare yourself to me
Can't you see
That you are beautiful
In your own unique way?
Listen to me
And listen to me well
It would be a cold day in hell
That I would allow anyone
On anything
Take away my own originality
And you as sure as the sun shines
Can never have the talent or personality
That is mine.
You can never be me.
Can't you see that it can never work?
Why don't you put more effort
Into finding yourself
Instead of trying into cash in on
The wealth I have found in myself
Because the same riches lie inside of you
Could you please please please
Stop trying to be me
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 9:35 PM UTC
Reminding you of your childhood, how the only cutting involved was arts and crafts. How the only drug involved was to get rid of a cough. How the only imitation was of our parents and siblings for a laugh. This shell of purity and wholeness can break at any give time in someone's life, when something extravagant happens to take over the innocence.
A knife
A drug
A copycat
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 2:15 PM UTC