Monster on the Wall

There is a monster on my wall.

It's fat
and ugly
and acned.

It wears too much make-up,
and looks like a mistake
gone horrible.

The monster is never happy
carries a grim countenance
a somber self-image.

It's too short
and too tall
and awkward
and its brests are too
small,
and are never quite as nice
as the others.

The beast feels the least,
and desires the most
yet can never quite find that
gentle median --
that comfortable host.

So the monster cries,
and denies,
that it is ever anything more
than a reflection.

A monster
on the wall.