Foil.

 

There are two sides to all tales. Like a sheet of tin foil-it has two sides. This is my tale. I have a live foil. A foe who tracks each one of my moves. Like a wire wound too tight, she stalks and waits and snaps when I feel safe. We are not on the same side of the tin foil. I am happy, with a face that gleams like one side of the sheet. My foe is not on the same side, as she is the side of grey clouds and dull thoughts. She is weak, rude, and scared--things that I am not. While we look the same, with brown hair and a smile, my brain sings of birds and blue skies, while her brain hums a dark tune.

We have been joined at the hip since birth, but now as teens she has grown while I looked at her large frame. When we were young, I was the loud friend. She sat mute, and only spoke up in times of stress, to bring up all of my flaws. At 10, we grew. She would plague me, buzz in my ear, and cause me pain. Years passed, and she had a growth spurt, and was then a beast. She shoved all of my worst fears and thoughts to the front of my brain and she laughed at me. She teased me so my brain built walls. I was shut out. She ruled my life.

I then learned that our bond was toxic. I gained control, and bit by bit cut her out of my life. Some days I see her, and we have a brief talk. Then I look back at the bad times we shared, and leave her in the dust. She made me who I am now, in a bad way. I look in the mirror and I see her in me. I am my own foil.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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