An Ultimate Resentment

She wears her scars
like badges of honor
to avoid the admitting
of a life of horror.
She takes outward pride
in what she inwardly
could not despise more
unequivocally, definitively.
She wakes up in the morning
to go into a public eye
where she pathologically
lives this ultimate lie.
She does not possess
a drop of contentment,
not a crumb of happiness,
only an ultimate resentment.

She resents all those
who put her in this situation.
She resents all those
who strip her of any appellation.
She cannot stand
the sight or sound of those
who walk by so happily,
so genuine, with their collective nose
stuck straight into the air
as if to rub it further in
that they have what she can't,
again and again...and again.

But mostly she resents one,
the truly responsible party,
one who had the ultimate plan,
the one whose words and thoughts so hearty
had her buy-in to the idea
that the plan was going according to plan,
a reality that never existed
except in what became the ultimate scam.
She resents this one
that has dragged her heart through dirt
and pounded a soul to death
without a thought of repercussion for the hurt.
She resents this one
who does nothing but stare back at her
and will only mimic her actions
from here to the day she dies, that eternal forever.
She resents this mockery
of the shadow that is ever-becoming clearer,
this despicable being deserved of the hatred,
this excuse for a soul staring back in the mirror.