Loathing on the very image of oneself
Disgusted by every single physical flaw,
enough to make others cringe;
the list is endless.
Thinking of ways to fix every imperfection,
wishing this canvas wasn’t such a mess.
Looking at the mirror and there’s the reflection,
a constant memorandum, a constant reminder
of the very little details that haunt oneself.
The very peak of irritation, discomfort
at the very sight of something so wrong.
Rolling of tears down both cheeks,
pondering how much longer one has to be hurt
by the very being, by the very presence of oneself.
What one can to do when one is weak, oh so weak?
How can someone hate themselves this much?
How can someone despise themselves like so?
How can someone be so self-destructive?
Simple. It’s easy when you’re your own foe.