Blooming from Scars:

The graveyard mist swirled thick and cold. Headstones whispering secrets untold. I've got a silver bullet with my name on it. Labeled an outcast, a recluse, a monster wearing my own shoes. The mirror reflects a face I despise. Haunted eyes that tell countless lies. The bullet gleams, a question it asks. Will it shatter the monster, or shatter the masks? The wind whispers secrets, a chilling decree. The monster I fight is the one staring back at me. With a trembling hand, I lower the gun. The battle for peace has just begun. Though the world may see a monstrous guise. My spirit within, defiant, cries. This body I'll claim, reshape, redefine. A home I will forge, where my true self can shine. Though scars may linger, a battle's decree. My heart will learn love for the person I see. For within this shell, a warrior resides. And true beauty blooms where self-acceptance confides.