Clown.

If imitation is the highest form of flattery, why does your carbon copy of me fill me with rage? Born deficient and inbred, without enough personality to even fill half a page. Your adoration was endearing at first, I wore it like a ribbon, you were the prized pig, until we parted ways, and you continued to assume that you were still as big. I gave you your confidence, yet created a monster in the process, played you like a pawn in a life sized game of Chess. You were pathetic at your best, as you had me fooled to believe that you were different from the rest. Instead, I wish I had seen through your facade, and realized that you were a mistake, and hardly an act of God. Your own mother barely knew whose seed you had sprouted from, with a complete lack of ambition, you were best suited to dwell within the slums like sickening scum. Your rotten teeth were so decayed, your breath reeked of failure, and the foul odour of stale bandaids. The people you assumed were friends laughed at you, and called you names, as they realized with each passing day that you were easily defeated at your own games. It's no wonder why your lovers past betrayed you, and then strayed, as it became so clear to me, that you would implode, then self-destruct like a grenade. Landmines and shrapnel lined the streets that you called home, you are a creature of the gutter, statues made of excrement were the closest that you would ever get to Rome. A clown at your very best, your jaded, jilted jest was hardly a test but more of the catalyst that set me free, and showed me that you were merely the detour that I needed to take, in order to remind myself of how to truly be happy. Jumping from one vine to the next, your demented Tarzan refused to take the time to accomplish anything slightly more complex. Each of your suitors worse than the last, you are a joke that haunts me from the past. Lie to yourself some more, as you continue to commit identity theft, fortunately I know who I am, so I will not be left bereft. I have no reason to seek revenge for your retribution will occur through your next foolish lovers binge. Keep searching the world for the love that you refuse to even give yourself, you are a parody of human life, a mere toddler's toy forgotten high upon a thrift store's shelf. Your own sister refused to give you the respect of being loyal, though she was a total dog; the warts will soon begin to sprout upon your face, as you get left behind amidst the clouds of fog. Return to the circus with your sideshow freaks in your clown cars, you were a small town eight, but in the city, you were never up to par. Rarely the prince, and always the frog, your future already looks so grim; so pucker up, and taste death's kiss, already out too deep when you can hardly swim. Drowning in debt, you deserve it all, keep rolling in the deep, future lovers will surely be smart enough to see that you are just another sickening sheep.