Selfspite
Disgusted,
at what is seen,
self observation is key,
Yet to keen,
to understand oneself,
Only seeing what is deemed,
Hateful sinful gross unruly,
Truly empty,
all the Things in which I spite,
Is what I am,
I cannot lie,
I see In Mirrors gazing back,
Reflections of faces I could've slapped,
Yet all that's there is I, It's me,
I hate the person that I see,
Embodied by wrong choices,
Choices made because of whispering voices,
But only I and what I am,
Can show me, me that sad sad sack.
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