I can’t look at the boy who sits across from me in the mirror.
his cold stare only reminds me of the fact I’ll never be who I wanna be.
I’ll never be the sweet, charismatic , pretty boy I try to mimic
He says I’ll never be anywhere close to my friends.
he tells me I’m not a real man for crying.
calls my big, arched nose ugly, and tells me I should just cut it off.
He calls me a waste of space, a waste of human life, a waste of air
he tells me no one is more undeserving of love than the ugly mass of fat, muscle, flesh, and blood that is me.
he calls my writing and art terrible. Says I don’t deserve to hold that pen
Sometimes I want to break the mirror, in hopes of silencing him.
in hopes of getting him out of my head.
because I know he’s right.
I know I’m a fragile excuse for a person.
he’s always been a reminder why I don’t love myself