My Reflection

I open my weary eyes to the darkness beyond
Light and joy beckons me, but I do not respond
I lift my tired feet from my prison of despair
I look in the mirror, it is more than I can bear:
My most hated enemy with whom I have spent
My whole life, who plotted my demise and descent
I hate his eyes, his nose, his mouth, his hair
No part of him can even be remotely deemed "fair"
His heart as wicked as the murderers of Jews
He is respected by little, loved by very few
He is immature like the boasting of children
His voice harsh and crude, the yelling of heathren
His face resembles a misassemblage of flesh
The intelligence only good enough to thresh
A grotsque head, a body completely disporportioned
A soul lost to Satan, a mind disillusioned
Enough blubber to feed hordes of many nations
Various problems incurable by medication
A temper like the rumbling of the distant see
But the ability to act as little as can be
Unable to make any and all important decisions
Neither has the skill for accuracy nor precision
Appears not to be a man, but a woman not
He wears clothes that look cheaply bought
The sense of fashion he hasn't a single bit
Is so filled with hatred, pain, and deceit
This is the man I have of torterous company
Every day, every moment, another epiphany