Mirror on the wall,
You frighten me.
Waking up in the morning,
And seeing you there,
Tall, long, and slender,
Almost mocking me.

I start at my face,
A round and puffy base,
Wishing for a piercing and cutting jawline,
Cheekbones that could ****,
But my mirror image stares back at me,
Knowing I'll never know such a thrill.

When I start to look down,
At the person staring back at me,
I see the stomach,
A flap of fat,
No definition of any sort,
More so the lack of.
Parts of fat bulge over blue jeans,
With one 360 alone,
The "love" handles are evident,
But I do not love them,
Quite the opposite,
For every inch,
Every centimeter of over flow,
Is another reason to hate myself.

Legs and arms,
Containing not veins of muscles,
But vein looking lines,
Stretching across skin,
Reminding me of ways I could've been,
Thin,
Toned,
Without lines,
But I can't be that way.

Wretched mirror,
Why must you be this way,
You show the skin,
But not the story,
And sometimes you simply are,
What my brain thinks I should see,
Worthless.

And sometimes the story breaks through,
Of puffy cheeks lighting up from a smile,
And legs large,
From the years of running,
And the stomach,
Stretched and shrunk from your years of,
Binging,
Starving,
Repeat.

An altered sense of self,
Shown by you.
My enemy the mirror.
You block my way out the door,
I break my way through false images,
To see another day.