It is villainous

I know it is

My words and my smile

An ignoble pleasure

A crimson red

That is painted in your head

A harrowing essence

Felt in my presence

To my ostentatious tongue

To where the singing lich hung

I'm here and I'm there

I could be anywhere

In small threads in your mind

In there you'll find

Me and my opaque face

Hindering your legs in the race

Your eyes see not stars

But the dark space in all bars

What am I?

Your self-critique