You take your perfect aim and you shoot at my brain,
Your poison bullet quickly clouding my already chaotic thoughts.
I stand in front of this mirror and fear my makeup may be running,
Uncovering the parts of me I so desperately try to conceal.
I close my eyes tight and hope to God that none of this is real.
There's no way I'm the monster that you make me out to be.
When I lash out, I promise it's because you've broken me.
God
I
Hope
I'm
Right.
.
.
.
(what if i am truly like the monster inside?)