UGLY Me

 I feel I am ugly,

So I see the beautician,

A doctor to heal my heart

Powder here,

Powder there.

Turn right,

Yep! The angle’s right.

Multiple shots,

Multiple checks,

Short of perfection.

Another paint to my face,

A touch here,

A rub there.

But this surgery tears my heart;

It exposes the corpse that trails my thoughts.

Can’t I fix this mirror or what it sees?

can’t I fix its sight with gloss or multiple takes

Can’t the camera fix this broken me?


I stand facing the mirror,

Hands over my ears,

Shutting out the sound

As a thousand voices echo my ache.

I let out a scream,

Punching the mirror off its rim,

Because in its blindness I see light;

And as its broken pieces drop,

My heart eases to a beat.

Because though we are many before this broken lens,

I

I am one evolving stream.



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