I hate my inner *****
                                 who flares recurringly, consistently,
        cruelly to the surface upon those
                                                            who least deserve it.

I hate my inner narcissist
                                        who rears herself
                                                                            so cleanly
                              on the outer sleeve of
                                                   Me
          bashing down while lifting me up
                                                            on the shoulders of
                                            comparison

I hate my learned complexes
                                    bred not of my parents
            but of a woman who saw                       a light
                             and sought only to
                                                                         consume it.

I hate how amid the dread and sin
                               every rippled part of these indentions below my skin
                                      I must completely forgive them.