Who is that I see?
Looking at me as I look at her.
Unable to count the numberless flaws
as our eye contact remains unwavering.
I can't help but take in her beastly appearance
as my eyes wander over.
There is no way to find favor with her.
I hate her from her stringy hair strewn across her brow,
to her too big feet
that are disporportioned to the rest of her.
A stranger.
I argue with myself.
Argue whether or not I should harrass her with my mental assessments
But I am at conflict.
I glare at her and she glares at me
and I finally accept a truth:
I am my worst enemy.
