Is it my fault
That I look at someone
And feel repulsed
By the way their
Body flows?
That I can’t look at anyone
And not rip
And pick apart
Every little flaw they have;
A crooked smile,
Lopsided eyes,
A tilted nose,
Hairy limbs,
Flaky skin,
Tilted lips,
An asymmetrical face,
A too-big forehead,
Puffy cheeks,
A bloated stomach,
Humongous thighs,
Giant arms,
A wide frame,
Bushy eyebrows,
Monkey ears,
Uneven feet,
Messed up hands,
A normality in a flawed creation
Yet it’s all that catches my eyes
When I look at
People in the lifts,
In the shops,
On the street,
In the corridors,
In a home,
In a room,
In the mirror.
“Wrong! Wrong!” My brain screams
In terror
It’s right, I suppose,
That monster in the reflection must be
The consequences of an
Error.

Don’t leave me here alone
Where I can’t see
Where the light won’t consume me whole
When it was never meant to be

I’ve wished on a shooting star
that isn’t really there
And God forbid I stay in that
Place where no one really cares

But I can’t run forever
From this inevitable cave in
A hundred shattered glasses
With bloodstains that I kin

Melted sand, whatever,
it’s my own ****** loss
But not even the fine print
Ever told me the cost

To being alive
To waking up per day

So if I stay in the darkness
Don’t be surprised if I don’t come out again.

Woken up from a dream,
the world the same
as it’d been left
My bed still creaks,
The sky still rains,
The birds still scream my fading name
My heart still beats,
My legs still break
I’ll burn to death in the wildfire
And wake up,
Still the same.

We can never be normal again,
We can never be the same again.
Is that how things were always meant
To be in the end?

I see you in the bathroom mirror
Looking back at me with the same face
Every time I go back
To that place.

Was it ever, really, truly home?
Or the only landmark you know?
Will I ever go back to that room
And talk to you?

Did we actually mean it as a joke?
Or was that the only way we could cope?
Will   I   ever   go   back   to   that   room
                                                            ­       And     talk
                                                            ­                         to     you?

Worth anything?
It’s killing me
Worth anything?
No, that can’t be.

My failures and mistakes
make up who I am.
So when you tell me that it’s okay
What am I supposed to say to that?