Poem-A-Day: Day 212

The Glass is All Full

I've seen horrible things,
reflections in the mirror
that look stunningly lifelike
and make me want to punch the glass,
punch it repeatedly
until my fists are red and bloody,
red with rage,
all the rage awkwardly apparent
in every single molecule,
every rage filled molecule.
I hate the mirror,
and its horrible reflections,
I want to puke when I see it,
I want to punch myself,
my whole wretched face
staring back at me.
I have seen my horrible self
in the deformed reflections I portray.