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Kleptomania
“The best thing you can be is yourself.”
I unscrewed the spring in my step from the bottom of my little brother’s shoes.
“Everyone else is taken.”
I nervously tap my foot to the rhythm of the metronome pocketed from the top of my best friend’s piano.
“Stay true to who you really are.”
I sat with a stopwatch to find the breaths between her laughs,
Skimmed the slang from his sentences.
“People should love you for you.”
Each day I thieve a handful of mannerisms,
Each night I pilfer a pattern of speech.
“Be unique, be original.”
If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, I'm in love with everyone I know.
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"Kleptomania" comes from a place of truth and personal experience. I have always picked up mannerisms from my friends or family, but when I thought about it, I couldn't find any nervous ticks or habits that were really mine, and that bothered me. So this poem is really about whether or not you are still yourself when "yourself" is just a conglomeration of other people.