Like the phases of the moon
My self-concept waxes and wanes
Between wannabe girl
And something maybe from other planes
The man may have been an illusion
In his place now, only confusion
What do they see?
What reveals the truest me?
Like the phases of the moon
My self-concept waxes and wanes
Between wannabe girl
And something maybe from other planes
The man may have been an illusion
In his place now, only confusion
What do they see?
What reveals the truest me?
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Justin/Anne, this sticks. Thank you for your raw explorations.