I long to be who I am not
I seek to be free from my lust
I hope to be isolated from that of which I need not
I slither amongst those around me without trust

Although I can be what I am not
I can’t be what I want to be who I am
Forever locked within the bowers of my corpse
My highest point of that I am, of not that I can

Locked within solitude
Yet shut out of humanity’s door
If such could have been found to be existent
This young poet, merely to them, a forgotten lore

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