It’s not a phase, it’s who I’m not

I’ve a fetish for infidelity,
I call it being free.
Life is but a parody
of all that man could be.

I’ve a hatred for identity.
Neither of which I can dispel.
Make bile your persona!
Discontent in show and tell.

You’re a master human,
yet a neophyte soul.
The chants you chant
all claim you home.

We’ve constructed distractions
for our minds to be fueled.
We’ve burned down and ignored,
yet our eyes can’t be fooled.

These are not amenities.
This is pure denial.
A human you have lived.
A human you will die.

The only way to prosper
is to be an ever-changing impostor.

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