I sleep with thoughts of others.
Though I consume their minds
by listening and internalizing,
their sight becomes mine, 
their life exists as a complete impersonation.
I live as another,
as I have always wished,
for since the beginning,
my life has been swished.
Mother and father gone,
myself only for company,
so through lives not mine,
I tend to spend my time.
I forget them in the morning,
but their effect is apparent nonetheless:
they make me realize that my existence will,
fade, effortless.