My Reality; Insanity

I look at my reflection in the mirror,
That goddamn crooked broken mirror,
All I can think;
How did it ever come to this?

My face was a mess,
Unshaven and rough,
My right eye was swollen,
My cheek was cut.

I wear an old t shirt,
The white's fading away.
Small holes are showing,
With rusty blood stains.

Atop that is my old flannel shirt,
Unbuttoned and loose,
Hung with dismal look;
Such an uncaring way.

Topping it off is my green army coat.
Rag-tag and heavy,
With its intimidating look.

The surroundings are shoddy,
The walls make it clear,
Cracked and cluttered,
From years of abuse.

Crimson drops swirl eagerly,
With the gushing water below,
Painting the yellow stained sink,
With the deep colors of life.

Wherever I glance,
Dilapidation ensues.
My eyes come to rest,
Weary and cool.

I'm used to it now,
This life that I live,
The darkness around me,
And the light it gives way.

I imagine the warmth,
Of the life I could have,
Dressing in fashion,
Following fads.

Walking the streets,
Without drawing eye,
Without a bruised face,
No reason to hide.

No scars to cover,
Living in bliss,
A smiling family,
A place to belong.

At this point I laugh in scorn,
The mirror is broken like the thoughts I adorn,
Fiction was made just to entice,
But reality simply ain't that nice.

I finish rinsing my hands,
And walk past a twisted door,
Pulling on dirty sneakers,
To re-enter the world.