The looking glass that I hate
Why are my feelings like this?
Loathsome, Irate.
I strike out in angry rage
The glass falls to the floor
I really hope no one opens the door.
Why am I ugly?
When I strive for beauty.
There is a flaw
In every person.
But I seem to be
Flawed in every aspect of form.
My beauty is not inside,
Or out.
I feel ugly everywhere
Not just in one place.
Why do I have this ugly soul?
This ugly face?
But everyone thinks these things
Not just me.
Or maybe I'm different somehow
But I'm probably just the same
As every other person,
I'm not just insane.
Blood on my hand
And on the floor.
This is uglier than me,
This crimson substance that runs through my veins.
It is life, it is death,
But it's all really the same.
And so am I, so let me be
I feel so alone,
Yet I am surrounded.
I feel so empty
Yet I am full
But it's all the same.
I and this mirror image
Are all just the same,
Just as these feelings
and the blood running through my veins.