I stare at this one single thing,
A 'thing' is the best word for it.
So ugly, so rotten,
I can feel others think it.
I go through in my mind what this thing should be like.
Why is so much wrong.
This part, and this place, 
Disgusting. Disgrace. 
Ugly and gross the magazine screams,
My eyes still open to it all.
All I feel is this bubbling hate,
This thing I can't get rid of.
I want to slash at it, 
to tear away the thing I hate most.
But I am still left here, all alone,
to fight the terror myself.
I stare in the mirror,
to a collapsing spirit,
And a fear that I call home.