The monster used to be under the bed-
Now it hides in the mirror.
The glass is intact,
But it cuts deeper than anything.

Chapstick used to be the only cosmetic you owned-
Now makeup covers your face.
Meant to hide a million imperfections,
Ones only you can see

Drawings used to be on the paper-
Now they are all over your wrists.
Made not with crayons, but with a knife.
A way to feel, to hurt.

Dessert used to be a reward after dinner,
Now it disgusts you.
A punishment,
Causing horrible thoughts to boil over.

The monster follows you,
Out of the mirror-
Every day,
In your mind.

Inescapable.