Contempt

When you look in the glass, and think: Who is this.

I see you,
below the surface.
You're there,
smuggling air again.

I know you,
Hanging by a thread.
You're there
unraveling.

I hear you,
choking on sorrow.
You're there,
smothering the pillow.

I see you,
loathing in the light,
you are there,
in the mirror again.