I look at my enemy everyday
and see hate looking back at me.
I become uncomfortable as she stares,
knowing I’ll never be good enough by her degree.
She has her reasons to feel this way,
although I wish I could change her mind.
Maybe if something about me was a little different,
some goodness she could find.
I tried to change the color of my hair,
but was met with that same stare.
Maybe surgery would help her change her mind,
if I had a nip or tuck here and there.
Perhaps I can ignore her, pretend she doesn’t exist;
she will leave me alone I hope.
But I find her presence I can’t resist;
it is now getting harder for me to cope.
I decide to confront her while my temper was up,
and make her leave me alone for good.
I waved my fist in the air and screamed real loud,
and she shattered where I stood.
Now my enemy is broken bits of glass,
some of the pieces fell to the ground.
How could something so fragile frighten me
and make me hate it when it is around?
I notice my enemy is still looking back.
She is in all the pieces that I see.
I then discover the naked truth;
I’ve been looking at a reflection of me.