Twisted

by

Standing here getting ready for work

I look down upon myself,
holding a hair dryer to dry my mass of

bottle-dyed red hair,
and I don’t like what I see.

My self-concept is shattered,
like a mirror that was thrown into a wall,

its pieces reflecting twisted images of myself.
I know that I am not grotesque,

nor am I beautiful, but I feel
I am pretty enough to be gazed at.

Yet at this particular moment I cannot see
past the lies I tell myself.
I cannot get past the block of low

self-esteem that has never let me pass.
It waits for me at the end of my tunnel,

crouching in the shadows ready to pounce,
like a tiger stalking its prey.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at WHOSE NAME WAS NOT RELEASED
by: Ronald G. Auguste
from: Phoenix, AZ, US

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