You are hyperbole.
I do not understand how you do it,
wake up every day
and face the world,
when you know that you are
a caricature,
you are the Wizard of Oz,
you stand in front of a funhouse mirror.
This isn’t an accusation,
this is fact.
You use borrowed words
and recycled ideas
to come across as original.
Originality isn’t a concept that you understand.
You are extraneous.
You are the accessory that others fear you will make them
but there is not enough of you to give need to accessories,
you are less than the need to accessorize.
Your time has passed
and the novelty has worn off,
but the voices will not stay silent
and the hands will not let go,
because you have them convinced
that there is more to come
even as you recycle and re-word
the stolen ideas you have already used.
You are anathema.
Drifting through the world,
traveling through time
so that you are always new and fresh.
You have no land,
no land will have you
as you lay waste to places and people.
Rain washes away the ashes of your past
as you begin the cycle anew,
staking your claim
knowing that tomorrow will come
and you will be cast out.
You are a mirror.
Fracture by time
and casting splintered light onto the walls.