The Mirror

 When he looks at himself in the mirror, 

He sees nothing but a coward.

A boneless, spineless coward.

He couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror. 

He hated who he saw staring back at him. 

Seems as though the other boys at school couldn’t stand to look at him either.

They saw right through him.

They pointed out each and every one of his flaws as if they were out on display.

As if they were going down a checklist. 

He hated himself for being so vulnerable. 

He left razor blade kisses all down his arms and up his legs.

The pills made him warm inside.

The two things that couldn’t tell him he wasn’t good enough.

Couldn’t point out every single problem he had.

They couldn’t tell him he looked like a girl.

They couldn’t tell him that boys don’t cry.

They couldn’t tell him he was too short.

They couldn’t tell him to lose some weight.

Yet, they were the worst possible cure for him.

He let them do their work.

He let the razor blade trail hundreds of kisses on his body because they seemed to be the only kiss he’d ever gotten. 

He lets the pills dissolve inside because the warm fuzzy feeling was the only source of happiness he was capable of receiving.  

He let them break him down until all that was let were tears. 

The only word he could mutter was,

Why?

Why had those boys torn him down?

Why couldn’t his parents see he was broken?

Why did he let himself get to this point?

Why had God put him through so much?

Why did the kisses sting so much?

And why did the happiness seem to make him sick?

Why hadn’t he been perfect?

Why? 

Was the only word he was capable of speaking as his vision went black, 

And he was whole again.