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.