Shattering Mirrors.

I can't help but make a scene. 

It's part of me,

Who I am. 

I hate when people stare at me

Even if that's inevitably what I want. 

Names fly from all directions, 

I duck so they don't hit me. 

"Freak."

"B***h." 

"Weirdo."

"W***e."

So many more. 

I don't like the sourness that settles in my stomach

When one of the names hit me.

I run to the bathroom, 

The one with the shattered mirror,

And shatter more mirrors. 

I grab the gun I have brought with me, 

Walking into the halls. 

The first girl screams, 

And then there's blood. 

"Please don't."

"I'm so sorry."

"What did I ever do to you?" 

Everything. 

When it's all done, 

I smile. 

Putting the gun up to my own head, 

I pull the trigger.

I am no more.