Who is that I see?

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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.

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⏰ Last updated: Jan 30, 2013 ⏰

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