I looked into the mirror,
Smaller than my stature.
I tried to rectify the error,
By contorting my figure.

Unimpressed by the sight,
Mind wandered to my adolescence,
When opinions were at a height,
And friends gushed at my appearance.

Such friendships came to pass,
Turned hostile by spies,
Treating like an ignoble ass,
With genitalia dangling at thighs.

But my focus was on career,
Anything but clandestine,
And I was distracted up the ladder,
By someone serpentine.

What is success without envy?
Probably a child’s tale.
What is a masochist without misery?
Maybe a Molotov cocktail.

So I stared into the glass,
Hoping for some consolation.
Amazed at how crass,
Are people in need of validation.