In the mirror, I gaze, a face that is not my own,
A visage of a monster, chilling to the bone.
What defines a monster, but our own perception anyway?
If they were the epitome of beauty, we’d see them in that way.

Yet we conjure repulsion of creatures vile in sight,
They evoke a primal fear that haunts us through the night.
When tasked to sketch a monster, I draw my own face,
The reflection that echoes my innermost disgrace.

The creature within, wielding hatred and anger and all that I fear,
reminds me of the monster I’ve become, the one I don’t want near.
It reigns over my emotions, a demon dwelling in the depths of my soul.
A monster not of others, but of my own self-control.

To others, I may not be the beast I see,
They may not cower or tremble from me.
I hurt myself, in shadows I dwell,
A prisoner of my own self-made hell.
For I am a monster who ruins only me,
A self-destructive spirit, in shadows that make me unfree.

A demon within, its roots entwined deep,
A battle against it, I struggle to keep.
Am I battling demons, or have I become one?
In this uncertain mirror, the answer hasn’t come.