• I want to throw up,
    I want to go back.
    I lay down on my bed,
    drift into the black.
    The scream in my ears
    doesn't sound like my own
    but somehow it has to be
    because I am alone.
    Flip the switch,
    turn on the lights,
    stare through the mirror
    and into my eyes.
    I don't recognize this person
    who I have become.
    Perhaps it's not me at all
    but another someone.
    Hair hanging down on
    the sides of my face.
    Mom said she was proud of me,
    Dad thinks I'm a disgrace.
    I can't be me
    while I'm still "you".
    It's the mirror or "myself",
    I'll have to choose.
    For now, shining tears
    slide down the drain
    and I can just ignore
    the urge to complain.
    One of these two
    have got to be me.
    And I'm forced to decide
    which one I want to be.