The mirror, the ugly mirror,
it lies all day when it looks at me.
Judges me with a reflection of
laughter, shards of disgust.
Or it’s the people, all the people,
patronizing me with condescending
tongues, and eyes that cannot
be seeing the same as the mirror.
It cuts into me like stares that
stab my soul with every gaze,
and I don’t know how to make it
stop. I am not seeing myself in
the same light as the mirror,
the people, the blind reflection.
But maybe it’s me who’s lying.
Maybe I am the one who never
learned to look at myself
without turning away, the same
way eye contact feels wrong.
That’s the truth, the guilty truth.
I missed the lesson somewhere
along the way about embracing
beauty. I missed out on embracing
a lot of things. But honestly,
the only guilt in the truth of it…
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