The mirror.

That dark, horrid enemy of mine.

The mirror.

Every time I stand in front of one,

I don't know if I want to force myself to

find a hiding ounce of beauty,

or just turn away before my eyes

replicate Niagara Falls.

I forbid myself from staying too long

(the visit to this reflector was already too risky.)

If I do, my imperfections began to

voice  what they've been holding in.

They scream at me,

asking me why I put them there.

God created a certain form for me.

He gave it to me.

I've ruined it in various,

nearly unspeakable ways.

I try to hide it;

layers and layers of makeup are my partial haven,

but I just can't seem to get it exactly right...

but it looks easy for others...

From head to toe,

I've evolved into a monstrous fear

from my insides.