i have an identity that i keep hidden;
a secret life
that nobody suspects.

at dawn,
when the owls are sleeping,
and even the moon is dozing,
i'm awake, stiff on my bed,
eyes unwilling to rest.

my secret identity is a bully.
i yell,
you're a disappointment
you're numb
you don't deserve this
are you ever thankful for anything?

the victim shys away and covers her ears;
she doesn't want to deal with this tonight.
she cradles into a ball,
hugging her flaws tight.

but i whip her until tears of red form on her back,
push her until she falls.
i whisper into her ear,
YOU'RE WORTHLESS,
and she shows no response.

when the sky breaks with sunlight,
i stand in front of the mirror
observing my battle wounds from the night.

my shattered bones will heal,
the tears in my heart will mend,
and the scars on my back – they will disappear.
but the bully comes back every time,

haunting me with her relentless whispers.