What is it in me
That I cannot see in reflection
That you so abhor?

I want to scream this feeling out,
I want to say calmly,
Beating my heart and
Tearing my hair and
Baring my soul
Very coolly, dispassionately,
“What’s wrong?”

But to do that would detonate your repose,
Would wreck the sandstone your fake affability is built on.

It would ruin you,
Never again would you bask in the stupid innocence of hubris.

The thought is tempting.


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