the kind of poem you write when your sad

feeling bad so I wrote down the conversation I had with myself every morning.

How does it feel, you ask?

How does it feel to cry? 

Surely you should know. 

I see you crying all the time.

How does it feel you ask?

How does it feel to hurt?

Surely you should know.

You have written on your face all your attempts at happiness,

all of which never worked.

You have protruding from your heart a dagger of guilt

that unequally divides your pain.

Oh you poor girl, you have such a weak heart.

And sadly your'e to blame.

Here's something you should know, oh detestable thing;

since you want to degrade me:

Your ugly and worthless and dumb.

Your not worthy of such a glorious thing called love.

You don't deserve to smile so wipe that smile off your face.

You aren't needed you know;

your brand of stupidity is something nobody would buy.

How does it feel my love?

How does it feel to be a blemish,

a mistake a dumb, grotesque,

pointless imperfection?

Surely you should know...

Since dear person I gaze upon in the mirror,

 you are my reflection.