She

A need for validation,

Conceit without limit, or shame,

She expects a fanfare, welcome party,

An agreeable crowd, suckers, underdogs.

 

She, needs applause, a standing ovation,

A doormat to wipe her soiled shoes on

She looks at the likes of me and tells me to lie down.

 

Her egocentric point of view, obscene, derisive.

 

She is,

Violently beautiful and brutally vain.

 

Eyelashes flutter like the wings of crows,

As they land and peck at the entertainment like carrion,

Those hands are made of glitter dust,

That she rubs in our eyes to make her sparkle.

 

I note her smile is fractured in three places,

Overzealous, too self-assured, too self.

 

I’ve danced through her mirror,

I came through from the other side,

She makes me feel like a worm,

Burrowing through the flesh of her desperation.

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