The Girl in the Glass Painting

There's this vile girl who hides behind glass. She pierces me with her cold judgemental glare and draws warm blood from my ears as she notes every flaw in my posession. She whispers to come closer so she can truly behold every blemish, every dent, and every scar that disfigures me. She spits fire into my face, repeating the same phrases that thrust daggers into my stomach over and over and over again. 

"Wow, you look disgusting." 

"A girl this ugly does not deserve respect." 

"This is why you're alone." 

And with her words constantly playing in my head like a broken record, I am forced into a choatic frenzy, attempting anything just to behold a speck of acceptance in her merciless eyes. But despite my efforts, she still watches as I crawl among the filthy ground and beg at her feet, 

"Please. Please, just love me." 

She replies with a wicked laugh and presses her heal to my forehead, pushing and pushing until all of the life I contain vanishes away like smoke from the dead ashes of a once vibrant fire. She digs her nails into my flesh and sinks her teeth into my despair, filling me with pain until I can't bare it any longer. And with one forceful swing of a hammer I shatter the very glass she occupies, each falling piece playing a note of my victory song seconds later. 

I look at the shards scattered across the floor and smile, for it is now I who gazes down upon her. And words long awaiting to be set free finally escape my lips and cut through the still air, 

"I'm done listening to your lies."