“You aren’t good for anything,
“You suck in math
“You can’t comprehend the simplest maps
“You shout instead of sing
“You can’t play a violin
“You mess with your health
And to hell with your cooking.”
I looked at her,
Bowed my head
And closed my eyes.
“What do you boast about?”
“That you write oh-so-well?
“Thousands are writers around the world
“And you don’t even match up to them.”
I clenched my fists.
“You aren’t worth anything,
“And when you die,
“No one will remember you for a long time.”
I punched the mirror and she stopped talking,
In the glass, my blood is still soaking.