Whispering all my flaws

Amplified

Turning charming features

Into disfigurements

Weight balloons

Clothes distort

Hair becomes unruly

I recoil at the sight

Change

Brush

Try to fix

All for not

The mirror still

Whispers its lies

(I took this a kind of different direction, sorry!)

I never liked mornings.

I mean, who does? Getting up, dragging yourself out of dreamland into real-land where you can't fly. Getting dressed and realizing nothing matches. Not having the energy to care. Sneezing while you're flossing and tasting blood.

I opened my mouth as wide as I could and peered into the mirror, straining to see where the blood came from.

I saw eyes in my throat.

I closed my mouth and sighed, exhausted. Hopefully my blood would hold him over for a while.

I never liked mornings.