My Vanity

My Vanity, 

Is turning to extremity.

I'd say its a necessity.

The best damn part of me,

it's like I won the lottery.

Of all the insecurities,

mine is an impurity.

Have you got the cure for me?

An antidote,

a way out please,

I used to cry myself to sleep

because I'd hate what I'd see

in the mirror.

My dreaded best friend

I'd break it all to pieces,

but I'd fix it in the end.

I think I hate myself,

friends all tell me just to be myself.

But honestly I'd prefer to be someone else.

Living some place else.

Knowing nothing about  how it felt,

to be myself,

having no one else

there.

Some days I see myself

and I cannot help but

stare.

And all the imperfections

stick out like erections

leaving their indention's

in my confidence.

This poem is about: 
Me

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