Your hunger, your need
leech life from those you love -
held up to your mirror
they shatter in trying
to achieve the perfect reflection
you have created
in your expressions of desire -
ever more complicated -
twisting and stretching back
to the needs of the child
most have outgrown,
but you cling to with weak
fingers, grown desperate
over the time
you have failed to grow;
now, no more than a husk, a shell -
though you are beautiful
it is the fuzzy beauty
of the caterpillar,
not the elegant beauty
of the butterfly.
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