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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I was once asked, what's the one thing I despise? But words faltered, for she, my reflection, listens to my cries. In the mirror, her gaze sharp, like daggers, meets mine, A silent dialogue of disdain, an internal sign. I detest her patience, unrequited and unearned, Kindness persists, tears withheld, a lesson unlearned. A heart forgiving, releasing the past's unrepentant grip, A trait I loathe, an internal conflict to equip. Her unwavering persistence for love's elusive embrace, Believing in hearts where skepticism might find a space. Open to learning, correcting the course she's charted, Yet defensive, perpetually on edge, guarded. Scared of friendships, a fear she can't dispel, Misunderstanding the world, a tale she tells. Believing in change through explanations, a futile endeavor, Apologizing, though blameless, a gesture she'll sever. Her reasons dismissed as mere excuses, Feeling misinterpreted, a sentiment she accuses. Sometimes alone, a solitary state, Concern dismissed, a consequence she contemplates. Suppressing signs of sadness, a stoic masquerade, Consistently right, a truth that won't fade. Undeserved hate cast upon her tender frame, Trust reserved solely for her, a self-imposed claim. She despises me most, a self-inflicted plight, Yet in mutual hatred, comfort takes its flight.
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