The Narcissist

You tell the world you have been perfect
Exemplary, the one who’s done their best
A saint, a martyr, greatly hurting
You have been put through many tests

Your “pretty“ face you’re showing to the world
An angel, pure, you are now
If they knew, at you they would be hurling
So many stones, at your smell foul!

But they do not - I do!
And it’s my fault that I remember
That I know your nature true
That I know your ugly temper

It’s in the past now, isn’t it?
Your new identity - it’s all that counts
And your ugly smelly bits
Are product of my memory somehow

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