It\'s buggy
The sky is dark and gloom
So I write on the mirror
Give burried feelings some room
I don\'t like when my skin is too white and pasty
I dont like my thin and graying hair
I dont like my stretch marks, or wrinkles forming around my mouth, chest and eyes
All this wear and tare
The broken blood vessels on my face,
The loss of once voluptuous breasts, brittle nails, or coffee stained teeth
The appearance of sagging, aged knees
This being physically shallow
I dont like being an introvert
Extroverts are surely more fun
I dont like addiction, fight or flight, the too common desire to run
I dont like my pea brain knowing so little, nor do I like this being dumb
I dont like worrying so much what others think of me
Desires so hard to appease
Sometimes to the point that I lose sight of acceptance
This being unauthentically me
I dont like cracks from a muddy and scarred past
Peaks and valleys displaying the ways I fail
Too often filled with the miseries of history or tomorrow\'s
This becoming derailed
I like being independent
Whilst still hating it so much
For the inability to let people in
From this deep mistrust
I dont like this and that
Honestly noone cares
So I just see vacancy in a grave reflection
And this within me, stares