My Tulpa
He speaks in your voice,
but he does not have your eyes.
I can not figure out how-- to make
my copy exude authenticity.
I wanted to
endow him with all of your
sadness.
Your vague depravity,
your wishful wanting,
which you kept so!
carefully confined--
to my utter chagrin.
He now speaks feel good fodder,
and affirmations,
blunt, and un-needed realisms.
I did not ask for this,
I did not mean for this.
This, this was not my.. intent.
My devout
continues to smile in shades of
orange (a color I disdain) and when
given an essence, seems only
to spout. I bare him my soul,
and he only replies,
‘Tomorrow will be better’.
feedback:
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/46t22w/formatting_test/d08jvui
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/46s5i7/another_reflection/d08k3mz
Posted Feb 21, 2016, 10:19 PM UTC