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The Eclectic Pen - The Poetry of Self-Loathing

By: Amy P. (amysedai)   + 2 more  
Date Submitted: 7/30/2007
Genre: Literature & Fiction » Poetry
Words: 111

  The Poetry of Self-Loathing

What thundercloud is this?
Staring, with bared teeth,
At this destroyer of falsities
Glaring in this awful mirror

I could use my fist
To break it, cut my arms with
the shards.
Then it would be gone.
But what good would it do
to kill the messenger?

What good would all that bleeding do?
Canít bleed the sickness,
Even if I try to

Whatever happens to that mirror,
The truth is still here.
Maybe it should be punished
for reminding me
Of every sick and sad inadequacy.

But whose fault is it that I regret?
And whose fault that I canít forget?

Well down is where you wanted me
And down is where I am.
Now my fist is bleeding from that awful mirror
But the truth is still here.

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by Amy P. (amysedai)

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Comments 1 to 3 of 3
Silvercat - - 7/31/2007 12:31 AM ET have an amazing gift for expression. The media slings perfection at us from all directions...wish we could put our living images thru photoshop or the airbrush, too! (But we ARE beautiful inside! Right?) :)
IONE L. (zaneygraylady) - 7/31/2007 12:27 PM ET
good expresion
Lena S. (SquirrelNutkin) - 8/5/2007 8:48 AM ET
I could feel this,been there really poured a lot into this.
Comments 1 to 3 of 3