Mirror, Mirror

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THIS MIGHT BE TRIGGERING

"Mirror, Mirror on the wall who's the fairest of them all?" " Not you"

I stand in front of the mirror as it tells the truth I don't want to hear. A single tear slides down my face.

"Mirror, Mirror on the wall who's the thinnest of them all?"

"certainly not you. You're a fatty." it laughs at me.

"Mirror, Mirror on the wall will I ever be enough?"

"No!"

I scream and cry, looking at the broken, ugly girl in the mirror.

this isn't me, not the girl I want to be. But it is.

"Mirror,Mirror on the wall, how do I end this?" I whisper.

"You know what to do" it says quietly.

I do know what do. I grab my blade and sit in the tub.

I hold the shiny, sharp metal on my wrist.

"C'mon, go ahead, do it!" the mirror persuades.

So I pull it across my wrist.

"Again."the mirror eagerly pleads.

so I do, I keep pulling the blade across my wrist until I'm sitting in a pile of my own blood.

"Mirror, Mirror on the wall, are you happy now?" I ask taking my last breath.

"Yes." The mirror whispers.

melancholy ;; poems & shitWhere stories live. Discover now