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Are You?I'm sorry,that I'm notbeautiful.I'm not a supermodel.Are you?I'm sorry,that I'm notfunny.I'm not a comedian.Are you?I'm sorry,that I'm notmature.I'm sorry,that I'm nottalented.I'm sorry,that I'm notgood enoughor,loving enough...or,smart enough.I'm not perfect.Are you?
Gun Within The MirrorIt feels as if my reflectionPoints a gun at its own head,As my bullet shoots the mirrorAnd paints the floor with red,And it feels as if my gunJust isn't steady in my hand,Because darling, when I jump off cliffs,Do you think I always land?It feels as if the razor bladeMight be my only friend,And it feels as if the broken glassMight soon begin to bend,Because my reflection is distorted, love.Can't you see that, love, can't you see?I'm pointing a gun at the mirror,And the mirror points back at me.
Can't you hear the voices?Can't you hear the voices?As they ring inside my headCan't you see the faces?Painted in the blood so redCan't you taste the poison?As it rests upon your tongueCan't you hear the voices?No?Then you do not belong.
Does that make me Different?I wear make up. Does that make me fake?I cry. Does that make me emo?I have male friends. Does that make me slutty?I smile a lot. Does that make me weird?I laugh loud. Does that make me preppy?I have anxiety. Does that make me a freak?I have Bipolar Disorder. Does that make me abnormal?I respect people. I change for me, and only me. I have a past, but I know I have a future.Does that make me different?Maybe.But at least it makes meMe.
And Daddy always lied.My legs are covered in bruisesAnd I have a scar by my left eye.I’m not allowed to smile, thoughAnd I’m not allowed to cry.I think my right arm’s brokenBut shh, don’t tell my dad.He doesn’t like to worry bout meWhen he’s already mad.I have a burn on my left wristFrom when he pushed my armAgainst the stove, the hot, hot stoveAnd did a bit of harm.I have a bear, a teddy bear.He doesn’t have a name.He makes me better every timeI’m feeling hurt and shame.Today, my dad came home kind of lateA beer still in his hand.I closed my eyes and waited.He screamed, he shouted, and…Well, my name is Mary StarrAnd this is how I died.But daddy always loved me.And daddy always lied.
What Happened?I used to think make upMade people ugly.Now I think I'm ugly without it.I used to think peopleAlways loved me.Now I think everyone hates me.I used to think everybodyWas my best friend.Now I think no one truly is.I used to thinkBoys were icky!Now I wish I had one.What happened to beingHappy?