It’s I that’s broken
Not the mirror
If it was
I wouldn’t hate myself so
But when I sit and delve in to the tunnels of my soul
I find that piece of rubbish that is my self esteem
All it needs is a polish to make it gleam
No.
It needs more than that,
It needs
Something or someone
To morph it back
To it’s original monotonous shape
Climbing out of the tunnels
My self esteem dissolves yet again
Too many mirrors
Too many cracks
I can see everything
Everything that is wrong with the casing
My heart
My heart is as full as I am after a fillet steak
My self esteem continues to shatter
And crack until the end of the time
And I am afraid
Afraid that it will never be able to reshape itself
It will be forever
Broken
How broken is broken?
I’m all smiles but inside
Inside I am pale faced and tired
Tired of feeling unhappy
Unhappiness is an enemy, one that you never want to face
Want to know why?
You should never face unhappiness because when you do, you become unhappiness and nothing else
This is the first time words don’t hurt
Words don’t hurt because you already hate yourself enough that any words with negative connotations pass you by
Or are merely accepted in the trainwreck that is your mind
Your mind has so many openings yet so many closed doors
What’s behind those doors
Is it the key to stitching your self esteem?
That’s the problem
It’s too deep
No easy access to the thing that gets you through the day
How can you step out in to the daylight if you’re surrounded by darkness?
Mirrors are everywhere, my reflection is everywhere, I need to get that lipstick off of my teeth but I can’t bare to look
I’m as scared as a child watching their first horror film from behind a pillow
Scared of what I will see
Me
The putred me