Staring back at me

Whether it be a mirror, or a camera, what stares back is sometimes good, sometimes bad....

Eyes, the window to the soul. Do you know what stares back at you when you look unto the looking glass? Your soul, naked and inept. What lies truly in your heart is what stares back at you. The twisted, hurt, wretched thoughts that keep you up at night. Thoughts of beauty and maybe not of. Expectations can be seen in the sages and wrinkles of your face. Your muscles (if any) are small yet tighten like a canvas just ready to be made into a truly masterful piece of art. But again back to the sightless eyes, the ruined lips, the cut and shaven face full of marks from puberty, how funny how that past continues to haunt you even now. Your hair, plain and boring, with the texture of that of straw or a horse tail, how sad. Back to those eyes, ugly and sometimes lidless when it comes to pain. Whats this a tear? How pathetic. You fear what i say because it is the truth. You look at you plain and wasted being and see it full of holes to be filled. Your very presence sickens me to no end. You need me! You thought you could just live away and forget about my presence? Forget about all i ttaught you, all i gave you, the chance to become something your not? How many people have that chance. You worthless worm!, HOW DARE YOU! You are a joke to the very core! If you remember anything remember this, you need me, i do not need you, period. That is what stares back at you, your future without me. That is why you hate the mirrors, or puddles in the rain, they truly show you what you look like. Haha o the comedy. Filth, you will come to reget not thinking you need me, sporco, indatto, indegno! Enough said. Goodnight filth, remember my words, how could you not, there is no way to sleep looking like that haha....