Mirrors Lie

I'm not beautiful.
When I see myself, I see the flaws that has built me, the scraps of self-worth that has shamefully clothe this ugly skin.
I realize I am envious
Of those who stare at themselves in that mirror called Desire.
They are beautiful.
they are objects of themselves
They are their own seduction, possessing themselves with such greed and confidence.
I fear my mirror (all mirrors show the past. That's their only power and our failure).
I do not have perfection.
I am only as good as my last glance and this saddens me, forcing me to look again and again to catch that moment when I am truly current and beautiful but
I am not beautiful.
I am a monster.
I cry in the rain.
I laugh in the sun.
I weep.
I feel pain.
I need Love.
I have loneliness and longing like all the monsters before me.
My feet are deformed by ugliness, my hands are clumsy, my heart is sick.
My Hope has wept, my prayers have died. My mirror has shown me how.
I will never be beautiful like you, my Angel.
No monster ever is.
No monster can ever hope to be.