Hiding, crying, bleeding out –
My soul reacts.
Trying to find some way to save itself
From its own relentless attacks.
A jab here, a stab there –
It knows how to make itself hurt.
It lashes out on its weaknesses
And doubts its own self-worth.
My soul reaches out for someone,
Someone who can lend it some help
While at the same times it hits itself,
Aiming so far below the belt.
After all the attacks,
I look in the mirror and find my tormentor – she is a familiar woman.
It is then when I realize it's me –
I am my own demon.