A burning monk

Her face is scornful...Of me?
My mask-carefully cultivated-
Indifference.
That look-Shatters
My only weapon, destoyed

Rudeness...she guages my reaction
Poisoned barbs of spite
What war is this?
I know not

Manipulation, that keen invisible string
Quicksilver words glance off my certainty
Dread swells and eats my heart...
Yet by some miracle- does not consume me

I am not broken.

A burning monk wears my face
Determination
His eyes are mine

[to that person, you know who you are- being insecure does not justify your attitude or actions]