Caught a glimpse of him the other day,
eyes thin, hair a mess, staring
with acidic hatred.
He loaded that tongue with barb
and venom,
cried havoc and let those dogs of
war gnaw at me,
tear my limbs
from my cowering frame.
I bleed,
I weep,
I am foetal.
He stands above,
sneering,
victorious,
yet again triumphant,
his winning streak undeniable
in the cold light of fact.
He is my better,
my superior,
and we both know it.