There's A Man in The Mirror

there's a man in the mirror,

a man only I see, who looks back at me

with dark eyes, a hidden kind

of happiness the glass forbids.

he stays inside as he spies

on my room, a quiet tomb.

he doesn't speak but still critiques

my form as I stand before

his unrelenting gaze, hoping for praise.

stop eating if you want the muscles to show

if you want the world to ignore how you haven't grown

skip the tank tops, fix your mop, admit you'll never fit their box

you're lashes too long

jaw not strong

lips too pink

so stop and think-

is this who you are, who you're meant to be

because all I see is a game of pretend

someone who will never reach the end

there's a man in the mirror,

sometimes he sneers, never does he cheers

he's trapped as am I, stuck in a world of unrelenting lies.

I would free him if I could, he shouts that I should,

to stop this wretched game and stake my claim

on a body, a life that doesn't have to be foggy,

a future where I no longer hide, feel the pride

of those before, who sacrified far more

so that the man in the mirror can rise.