Crooked smiles.
Sinister eyes.
The mirror gazed back
at me.

My lips, my chin,
My hollow cheeks,
Not me at all.

Was this the outside looking in?
My soul beneath the frigid glass?

Putrid air escaped it's lungs
the lingering scent
of a rotted mind.

Choking on the stench
of corrupted thought.

Pounding the glass
with bruised fists and
split knuckles.

And I was on the inside
looking out
while the sickness inside me
walked free.