horrible poetry- happily depressing

ive never met the man in the mirror.

i've never met the man in the mirror. i don't know what he likes, i don't know what he hates; i don't know if he can ever bring himself to love, because he knows that love only leads to heartache. i don't know his aspirations, i don't know his hopes, his dreams, his goals. i don't know the man in the mirror. is he lonely? is he stranded in the same world as i? there's billions of people on this planet, yet it still feels so cold and lonely. does he feel the same loneliness as i do? does he feel the cold and harsh breeze that carries throughout this world? or does he live in a different one...?

maybe he lives in a world filled with love and hope, not anger and despair. maybe his world is warm and sweet, not cold and bitter. maybe he loves his family; maybe he loves his life. perhaps his world is right. maybe he's not stranded, and maybe he's not lost. maybe he's found his path, and now he's on his way. maybe he has many friends. has he ever touched a cigarette? perhaps he's never hurt himself. maybe he's never been depressed.

of course he's been depressed; he is human after all. everyone has one of those days where they don't feel like moving or speaking or eating.
of course he's hurt himself; you can see a thousand scars.
of course he smokes; he's smoked so many cigarettes that he can barely speak anymore.
of course he's got no friends; how could he find anyone in the dark, harsh world he's in?
of course he hasn't found his path; nobody has, and nobody ever will. there's no such thing as a perfect path to follow.
of course he's stranded, and of course he's lost; how on earth are you supposed to be found? there's no possible way.
of course his world is wrong; there's no such thing as right.
of course he hates his family; they torture him until he can no longer breathe. who could love such monsters?
of course his world is cold and bitter; every world is. there's no such thing as 'perfect harmony' or 'warm and happy'. it doesn't exist.
of course his world is filled with anger and despair; there's no room for hope or love. hundreds upon thousands of people die everyday. who couldn't feel disparity over such bullshit?

the man in the mirror is putting on a mask like everyone else.

the man in the mirror is me.