Your lips move, yet it is my words that I hear.
You are a thief of my words, yet I find you so attractive.
You are a reassurance of how people see me,
But I hate you for you are an illusion.
All your tiny imperfections are hidden,
But mine are still visible to the eye.
You mock me in motion, follow what I do,
And then you make me a fool;
You look perfect, so languid, so fluid in motion,
But I look clumsy and amateuristic.
We perform the same motions, yet you play the perfect part.
We are the same, but we are different.
You are the opposite of me, thus the perfect projection.
Without you, I cannot see who I am.
But without me, you are nothing.
You follow what I do, but you make it perfect,
I do what I do, and I seem to be incapable.
I look to you to see myself.
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