I allowed calves on spindly legs to make my world a hell.
Rejection, scorn and abandonment became painful implements
in the hands of mere children.
Inside, I hated and raged at them,
but never thought to question their rules.
Every icy, piercing eye,
each frantic search for a counterpart,
turned the walls into hideous mirrors,
mirrors that would press me down to a bland nothing,
mirrors that could kill.
In the end, I accepted rejection as an honor.
As for the mirrors, I only wish I could find them again
only to spit on them and shatter them,
the glass cascading down majestically,
reduced to meaningless grains that can never reflect alone.
