The Self

A loathing,
Deeper than the ocean is wide,
Darker than the coldest corner of the universe,
Yet burning hotter than the sun.
Ah, to see myself through another’s eyes,
Without these dressings of malice and disgust.
With each touch of another comes the fear of discovery,
The terror that this time perhaps the mirage will disappear
And my true hideousness will come flooding through.