The mirror has lightning,

flashing around a figure

flashing around a monster.

You see,

What I’ve finally realized is the mirror image of a monster isn’t me,

instead it’s who I wished I could be.

Because you have to have a reason you are the way you are,

but I don’t.

I’m weird for no reason,

with anxiety that packs a punch,

my friends like to leave me,

and I’m too tired to eat my lunch.

I wish I was a monster,

because then they’d have a warning

that I’m not the friend they want.

They look to the mirror,

and they like what they see,

all the flaws in the exterior.

I wish it was like that for me.

I wish I was the monster in the mirror,

so maybe they’d all see my flaws, just a little bit clearer.