Perfection Reflections.

What is it that I see, it's starring back at me.
My reflection, so far from perfection.
I'd do whatever it takes, to paint a fake smile upon this face.
To hold back the tears that fall everyday.

Who's arms are these, surely they mustn't be mine.
They are covered with scars, stories I won't forgot.
I carry the memories upon my body.
Every place I go, is a constant reminder.

The whispers that slur around me.
Constant hateful, shameful glances and lowered heads.
Why must someone be so disgusted in my mistakes.
My life, and the way I think its best to be living.

Go on, show your hate for me.
Turn you head, stick up your nose.
Smile a little bit for me will you.
It'd be doing me a favour.

Long sleeves, band-aids, and cover up only go so far.
It's a secret that's beyond easy to hide.
It's a nearly impossible task, I have taken into my own hands.
What is it that I see? It's My reflection; so far from perfection.

© Megan Wheeler 2006