Harpies

You are pathetic,
The need to bask in the adulation of strangers
Somewhere, somehow
Consumes you.

You are broken,
That small still voice installing calm quiet confidence has vacated;
Leaving you empty;
Useless, just waiting for a tenant.

You are addicted,
Relentlessly pursuing the high of affection
You cannot live without it;
Beg, borrow, and steal to attain it.

You are twisted.
The kind words of those you love somehow fall on deaf ears
Not believing them to possibly be true
Yet a stranger, they must know.

How do I reconcile my self-doubt;
Defeat the harpies that manifest from my own self-hatred,
Embrace the honest words of my love?
Slay them.