I am looking at you,
smirking at your existence,
your bad vibes, your pretensions,
your cunning yet potentially trivial scheming,
your momentary satisfaction with flattery, and
your sad fetish for artificiality.
I am looking at you,
wary and tired
of your habit of self loath
draining the light from those eyes
detaching the mind from the soul
shredding self-esteem to pieces
causing irreparable wounds.
Until I cannot look at you anymore,
as it hurts to introspect and retrospect
tears drying up and screams cracking
there is nothing to do than wait
for that image in the mirror to polish itself
or fade away.
Would you please consider buying me a coffee? Thank you so much. As an Indian national deprived of her MPP rights, this gesture of yours means a lot!
Love.
