who am i really in the mirror
this ugly face is a waste for everyone to see
want to take a knife and cut it
hurt myself to fit the standard.

every morning i hate myself in the mirror
the arrows others shoot at me are protruding
arrows of hate, arrows of judgment, of pain
their bloodied points reside in my heart.

surrounded by swans as the ugly duckling
forced to pretend i'm not jealous of them
of their looks, their friends, their popularity
my bloody heart snaps into shattered pieces.

i want to stop everything
i want to make myself okay
but all i do is cry and hate myself
as i take another bite of my ice cream.