I have trouble understanding
How a man can adore himself so much
Walking in with his head held high
And his outward perceptions turned inferior
Forming questions with
A condescending tone
Only speaking his words
So he may talk about himself
His success
His happiness
His 'importance'
Daring to show off
The love he receives
But he does not understand,
That all the love comes from within,
As the man adores himself
And nobody adores him
But he does not understand,
As he finds himself perfect
And superior
But he does not know
That when he stops looking at the mirror
And looks around
That nobody will be there
To clean his worthless tears
And hold him through hell
Other than the mirror itself
That will one day fall off the wall
Shatter the glass all over the floor
So blood is drawn next time he walks
With his head held so high