The+Beast+in+the+Mirror

I gaze into the mirror. I’ve looked at myself many times before! I can do this! But I continue to stare timidly, afraid of what I’ll see. Time passes and my features shift as my mind wanders. The zit on my forehead appears to grow as I debate over just what I’m supposed to be seeing. Maybe I’ll see what makes me, me. Maybe I’ll start to see my parents. Maybe this is just to make me think crazy things… Maybe I’ll see the person in side me the person that let me- And at that second I see it all. The beast now in the mirror is no longer me. I’m not looking at a mirror anymore but a portrait. A portrait of a man who looks like my dad, more scarily looks like my uncle. a man that thinks horrid crazy thoughts, a man who can break down morals into pointless pieces of crap. Can shatter thoughts and dreams. Can destroy worlds and put endless strife on life. He morphs and mutates and grows ugly and detestable. He looks like Satan’s minion, doing his dirty work while he laughs from the depths of hell. The beast snaps back into form to reveal its true identity: Me –

I wake. 15 minutes has passed. I’m here in my bed. And I am left looking at myself, with a shudder.