Poetic Justice

My Tormentor

She looks at me,
With a smug look on her face.
She stares at me,
Judgement glowering in her eyes.

She is there,
When I look at my mirror,
Whispering that I am repulsive.
She is there,
When I smile,
Her solemn purpose,
To wipe that joy off my face.

Her hair is wild,
And she would always visit me, now,
And especially as a child.
She would turn my smiles into tears,
She would tell me,
That I will never be good enough,
That I am the reason for hate,
That I am only an unwanted mistake.

Whenever I see her, I start to shiver,
And my hands start to quiver.

One day, I caught a glimpse of her
Eyes.
They were ice cold, and stone hard.
They had so much terror in them,
So much hate for me, for herself.

She hated who I was,
And it was all my fault,
I could never be good enough for her,
I could never be good enough,
I could never be good.
I could never be.
I could never.
Was what her eyes told me.

She always had a bitter face,
No smile had ever gotten to grace,
She told me once,
"You foolish girl,
You think you shall amount,
You don't see how people look at you,
You don't see their distasteful faces,
You don't hear their loud laughs.
How stupid can you be?
You are just like the rest,
Dreaming, and wishing for something
Something you know will never
Happen"

And I know she is not lying.
How can she lie?
After all,
How can I lie to myself?

~n.s