I Am An Imposter
I am an impostor; social acceptance is my game.
I am an impostor; my corrupted mind and conniving body, so intrusively lame.
With carefully chosen words I deliberately spear, I seek benefit, before I begin,
The rehearsed thoughts/actions decided/calibrated by how much favor I will win.
Gossip, ridicule, and condemnation flood the conversations in which I speak.
Intent/will are broken by chaos, confusion and repetitive despair, so rancidly bleak,
A putrid myriad conglomerated mixture of conflicted disappointment in regret.
Too many missed opportunities,ignored challenges,glamorized memories, I refuse to forget.
I am an impostor; a superficial body comprising no worthy name.
A torn and tattered mound of flesh generated by unused guilt,and saturated blame.
A haunting gap of pretense reminds me of my empty superfluous plight,
While the snickering,sneering, regal, phony regent salutes in mocking sight.
I vehemently despise the venerated niceness projected/calculated to receive;
The unwanted prize of favor, a lust of meaningless reward delivered solely to deceive.
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