Ugly

A room.

A room full of mirrors. 

Reflections of myself taunting me.

Who knew the mere sight of your appearance could make you sick. 

You make me sick.

I can’t look in the mirror without wanting to change.

Change my face.

My body.

Almost everything about me.

I get so angry.

I just wanna rip at my skin until I’m satisfied.

Satisfied with the damage I’ve caused.

Cause maybe if I’m just a pile of bones 

I won’t feel the feeling of almost being perfect.

If only I could change this one little thing.

Or this other. 

Or maybe If i didn’t get the traits I didn’t want from my mother and father.

I see my faults in them.

And they see theirs in me.

I don’t wanna be them but I haven’t even wanted to be me lately.

Mom.

Dad.

Thank you for the beauty you gave me.

But this ugliness I can go without. 

Not the ugliness you can see.

But the one that eats at you.

Claws at your stomach.

The ugliness that makes you weak.

Leaves you thinking it’s validation you seek.

And fights to come out no matter how good you look or feel. 

The ugliness that is always there.

Lurking in the shadowing of the smiles I wear.

This ugliness.

Will never go away. 

No matter how I look on the outside. 

this ugliness will always stay.