broken | writing

I have half my face on.
I want to punch this mirror and watch it shatter into broken pieces
I want to feel the skin on my knuckles break and the hot rush of blood.
It’s Friday the 13th and my luck feels as if I’ve already broken it.

What is the point of putting my face on
They call it war paint but I’ve lost the war
We fight a spiritual war inside our minds, or that’s something like the Fight Club quote
I hate looking at myself. 

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