Little Bitch

I'm insecure tonight.  
Self-esteem like cracks in the flaws.  
Memories of a pathetic little bitch  
rising up through the basin to spit  
the neglect of self, back into my face.  
 
It could have been me.  
I could have been her  
reeking of desperation and "love me, love me"  
like a spider tangled in unwashed dreadlocks of hair  
dying to feel connected as it dies alone  
in the fear that it'll never be loved.  
 
I can't help but hate her by default.  
She's the weakness of humanity personified  
with a face that crumples smiles  
in a sunlight encrusted crowd  
as she stalks the joy from the air.  
 
I spit on my own reflection. I spit on hers  
and let it dribble down the mirror.  
Spasms of anger exploding  
in barely tethered restraint  
for the pathetic little bitch in her  
awaking the memories  
of the desperate little bitch in me.  
 
© Indie Adams 2012