The sweet, soul-killing lies you tell yourself.
No need for Satan – You build Hell yourself.
Bravado of storm clouds slicing the moon.
You mocked the love-struck till you fell yourself.
Dad’s sex advice – A man won’t buy the cow
if he gets free milk. Don’t give, sell yourself.
Brew of wolfsbane, mugwort, and tears. No need
to call a priestess. Cast the spell yourself.
Anger turns sour, fear locks all the doors.
Love opens the cold, cramped cell of yourself.
Beneath the pond’s surface – insects, trout. What’s
reflected in the mirror or well – your self
or a protective mask? Burn incense,
sit down. When you meditate well, your self
melts to ego-free joy. If welcomed, you
thrive. If put-down, you learn to quell yourself.
Screw beauty, Alison. Spend energy
elsewhere. Enough to not repel yourself.