My harshest critic

One wrong step have I barely taken
And she appears before me, frowning
She doesn't care that I'm already shaken
She stares me down, scowling

"The misstep was unintentional", I say
"Any other would have done the same"
But for context she doesn't much care
"I expect better, your excuse is lame"

She remembers all the mistakes I regret
Her needling words rip through the scabs
Of old wounds I'm trying to forget
A twisting spear through them she stabs

To others, she is a compassionate friend
She feels their pain deep in her soul
I wonder why the kindness doesn't extend
To me, whose battles she sees up close

I'll ask these questions, and then some more
When I see her in the mirror next