Each morning brings an uneasiness,
A longing fear of peering into that mirror,
And seeing that misshapen carcass,
Like a portal to a world of monsters,
A bogeyman on CCTV,

I see myself,
But is that miscreation truly me?
This is no abstract,
But a very real abomination,
A brown haired accident,

Each glimpse at the mirror,
Is fingernails on chalk,
The portal remains open,
Blue eyes like the abyss scowl back,
A hide blemished and spotty,

That foul visage still watches from the glass,
The other me,
The me I wish I wasn’t,
And I avert my eyes,
Dreading the next time I see that mirror,

The reflection smirks.

Comments
  1. myfanwy80 says:

    You matter
    Chilling works πŸ™ I wonder would you consider submitting some works to my website http://www.myfawny80.com (myfanwy&friends)? It’s free to have your works showcased authors rights are reserved to them. Want to illustrate that our writing styles are as unique as we each are! Would you consider helping me with this? If so email myfanwy80@yahoo.com thank you for sharing

  2. Shruba says:

    It’s almost as though the poem speaks about body dysmorphia. So well expressed. Take care πŸ₯ΊπŸ₯ΊπŸ–€

  3. Why? Where’s that coming from? Who do you wish you weren’t?

  4. Also, why did the font on WP change? lol

  5. Carol anne says:

    Stunning! So, so good! ❀ ❀ xoxo

  6. locikate says:

    We are our own worst enemy…

  7. The mirror will never give an objective view of ourselves as it is clouded in our own overly negative *or sometimes) overly positive opinions of ourselves. Very good writing!

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