one of those days

It's one of those days,

When I hate my face.

Then my skin,

Next my teeth,

Fourth my hair,

And finally my legs.

Mirrors,

Mirrors tell it all,

That one on the wall,

It's beckoning me with its call.

A step forward,

Sudden regret,

I wish I could forget.

My face.

Flaky lips,

Sunken eyes,

A shiny nose,

With some dull red cheeks.

I've told my mom I never liked it.

She said there's nothing I could do.

My skin.

Discolored beyond my original hue,

Faint scars,

Scratches everywhere,

Dry,

Dry,

Dry.

Plus,

Open wounds.

My teeth.

Crooked,

My smile doesn't look right.

Not a dazzling pale white.

So I'll hide it.

My hair.

Stringy and disobedient,

Only one color,

Black.

Frizzy as it can be,

Dead skin can be seen.

My legs.

Short.

Bruises are scattered;

On my knees,

Shins,

Sometimes calfs.

So yeah,

This is me.

It's just one of those days.