Untitled #6

Believe me,

I am aware 

Of every single flaw

Or imperfection

That creates my 

Monstrous existence.

So who are you

To come and blame

My imperfections

For making me 


If I have

Already spent

The past

Minutes and hours

Sitting in front of a looking glass,

Telling myself

That I am

A living, breathing

Waste of precious space?



This gave me chills! You are an excellent writer. The poem touches my soul simply because I have felt these exact words many times in my life. 

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