A Rather Cynical Write

My eyes look so empty
When they stare back at me
Until the blurriness sets in
And they no longer see

Staring at my reflection
I feel a world of hate
Staring at the mirror
Wishing it would break

Why must it discourage me
To see my own reflection?
Why do I always
Pick out my imperfection?

A smile creeps upon my face
I visualize it clear
Raising up my fist
And shoving in through the mirror

Cynical sounding, maybe
But I hate having to see
The nobody within my eyes
Gazing back at me

The glass glistens as it falls
It floats down to the floor
Blood runs down my arms
But I don't see her anymore.