Pickpocketing

Often you picked the choicest of words
from the cluster of flowers of my blossomed garden...
the fragrance of altruism.
Pick pocketing the few saved pennies of thoughts
from the remuneration of my expressions,
which loved to jingle
in the profundity of
my creation,
snatching the ideologies,
presenting in the coterie,
bouquet of compliments, applause,
awaits at your doorstep
with bestowed honour
…
a swindler,
plagiarist,
or
a weak feeble warrior in life...
how do I call you
a mere
borrower of emotions?