Words penetrate my defenses,
my vulnerabilities stark naked.
Frozen in fear; like a child
awkwardly awaiting punishment,
for offenses beyond my control.
I search your eyes for mercy,
and find an icy blue tundra.
No compassion could grow here,
only the weeds of disdain.
Mortal wounds can be words,
and memories can be parasites.
You struck a fatal blow to my ego,
without ever raising your hand.
Victorious, you loom before me.
Your feigned concern mocking my pain,
and face contorted with rapture.
So, who is the ugly one now?