About-Face

I didn’t expect to like myself in her head.
The one who makes up the lies and taunts
the girl who sits in the front row.
Who stares vacantly at her screen.

Then lights up with a blush which
flows sunset-river down her neck.
While her face radiates warmth and pain.

She is one easy target with her grunge
clothes, that Pocahontas staring look.
Mystery wrapped round her — a virtuous cloak.

I have insinuated and indoctrinated her head.
She looks round fearfully and sees friends,
who smile back reproachfully — they like her.

I didn’t expect to hate myself in her head.
As I follow her home and slip into her psyche
while she reads and deciphers the vitriol
in my innocent blog with hidden depths.

I didn’t expect to love myself in her head.
She looks at Facebook through wept eyes.
The girl who bullies at random and picks on me
with the speed and accuracy of a drone.

Revenge thy name is Social Media.
And I am looking at 140 characters
with my name written all over it.