Today I looked in the mirror, After writing a few poems. And I wondered how long I could sit there, Without starting to hate myself. But I didn't see myself in the mirror. I saw a monster. Hidden in a box. And if the safe opens, And the secrets are spilled. All that's left to see, Is the self portrait of a monster.
I'm writing a small poem every day, about how I feel or the world around me. This is #8