The Man in the Mirror

Hello to the Man in the Mirror,
I see you everyday but I never saw you at all,
You do not feel normal, you don't look good,
You look like a mistake made by God,
Oh right, God again. Maybe God didn't make a mistake,
Maybe God was a mistake, maybe I am a mistake

I look at my reflection, no not my reflection,
It only reflects back my pain, my fears, insecurities, my deep voice, my bulge, my medium length hair and the constant pain in my eyes

Maybe I'm blind, because I can't see this person as a person, but merely a smudge on the mirror.

The chances of my existence is so small, and people tell me the love me for me, so why do I cry when I see the man in the mirror.

I cry and cry, before I grab a sharp blade, push it to my skin and I start cutting. Slice goes the blade, over and over again, all because I heard that women don't have facial hair.

I shave, put on make-up, wear female clothes, stuff my bra with socks, and still I look in the mirror and he stares back, saying
"What would your mother think if you killed her son?"

It's kinda funny though, because how do I kill something that never existed?

Sorry, I've been ignoring you. Shall we get back to the Dysphoria, or maybe the constant thought that I'm not good enough, that I'm not a girl enough?