At those who would steal my stuff. (Hi Jazzlyn)
At those who would try to manipulate. (Hi Bishop)
At all who tease. (Curse your memories)
At eating sweets. Jolly Ranchers, intense fruitness. (For many minutes)
At a situation I cannot control, because I cannot get group-mates to work. (Burning dislike inside)
At those who judge me for my aloofness.
Then point their fingers, laughing at my flaws.
At those who do not understand love of fictional characters.
Fiction is the eyes of love. Reality glazes over with ignorance and mindless loathing.
At myself, trapped in a past full of hate.
My eyes narrow at a reflection that reveals no mercy.