A mirror hangs on my wall,
Everyday wishing it was never there at all,
Who is it that reflection, looking at me?
Why is it not myself, that I see?
Covering my eyes, I begin to hate that face,
Wanting nothing more but to leave this place,
Why do I lash out in such aggression?
Why does something always steal my attention?
My eyes are dull; they are no longer bright,
My face is gray; no longer smooth and light,
This wretched mirror that hangs on my wall,
Everyday wishing it was never there at all,
I can’t seem to stop it; though I have never tried,
As I roll further down, this deceiving ride,
I wish I could stop, this great addiction,
End this attack on my body of this intense affliction,
A mirror hangs on my wall,
Everyday wishing it was never there at all,
Who is it, that reflection looking at me?
Why is it not myself, that I see?
Whenever I attempt to call,
Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it at all,
Seeing that no one ever sees me,
I’m stranded in this place; wanting to flee,
The glass reflection is merciless and cold,
I’ll never leave this state of mind, so I’m told,
I hate the mirror, which hangs on my wall,
Everyday wishing it was never there at all,
Throwing my fist into that iridescent glass,
Pieces of my shattered face fly pass,
The empty hole in the jagged frame reflects me,
The dark spot, picturing my soul, is all I see,
A black frame hangs on my wall,
Regret filling my broken heart after all,
Tears roll slowly down my face,
I’m stranded here, in this isolating case...
~by: [Xanatos} 2010
Here's a poem I wrote during school hours once. (Shockingly, it wasn't homework) I don't know what to post, so I just copy-pasted this on here) It's kind of self-explainatory, but it tells a very known tale. I think we've all felt this way at least once.