Real Looking

As your eyes are drawn
to the scene of bloodshed
though your body recoils.
And the warmth of the people
around you is sickly, its
communal relief in the
suffering of others
not themselves, a sin.

As you watch someone
faintly distasteful
stumble and fall
drunkenly, heavily to
the cold sick concrete,
and can only summon
up anger that they would
assault your peacefull veiw.

As you experience something
wonderful an aquaintance
you never really respected
has created, and the
wet wave of jealousy and
self-hate slicks your clammy
body, constricts your throat,
its stranglehold viciously asking...

...who are you?