Wandering from his bed, with
the early morning fog in his
head, he stumbles towards
the bathroom, shirtless,
senseless and careless.

Straight to the mirror
"Vanity" you would think,
but no, not this man,
nor is his reflection so
fond of its original.

A good morning nod,
a slight smile then a laugh
at his reflection, how idiotic
it looks, it's hair a mess
looking sluggish and dim.

Shortly after, the fight broke
thought, as they countered
each others silver tongues
every word taunting it
and itself, while realising.

A quick reminder, you know,
the usual, you're not good
enough, just look, it would
say, and we would, and
sigh and, of course, believe.

It knew the truth, it had
it's list of facts, the
secret and public, it knew
his every face, every word and
every action, up to date.

He often allowed his mind
to wander to better times,
filled with laughter, smiles
friends, sunshine and the good
he believed in everyone else.

But no, he thought, and
no, it said, good in others
is alive and well but the
good in you is long since dead,
face the music and sing along.

He did try, hard as he might,
to stand up tall and proud
and demand that he is
worth the fight against
his own damned reflection.

But, upon watching himself do
the exact same thing, and how
stupid he looked, shrugged off
allowing the reflection to win
once more, more of a man than he.