I don’t see horns
I don’t see a tail or clawed hands
Or razor teeth.
I don’t see cat-like eyes
Or a prehensile tail.
My skin doesn’t appear to me
So different from everyone else’s.
My blood is certainly not acid
And I don’t burp fire
Or fart brimstone.
I don’t shit fiery coals
Or piss streams of lava.
As far as I can tell
I am none of these things others
Me of.
And yet
I stare at the accusations
And the reflection they show me.
It is a foreign face I see in their mirror.
I’m confused by the me I see
In my mirror
And the demon I see in their mirror
I break the glass
And cut myself on the shards.
My blood pumps out of my broken skin and pools of the floor.
I watch if for a moment and think
“It’s not so different really”
Right before the blackness falls
And everything fades away.