Skip to content

Epic   Fantasy   Friend   Funny   Love   Main   Nature   Other   Sorrow

Hall of Mirrors

I danced with their empty shells,

left in their path after disappearing into the gloom,

her pretty picture in every corner of the room,

and when I turn around, it’s her eyes fixated on me like a predator stalks its prey.

 

She’s following me with that self-satisfied smile,

hunger only distant pains,

her growling stomach a sign that she survived another day,

this girl is a warrior coming home from a war with herself,

but she is merely fragments of who she once was;

 

shards of glass meant to pinpoint any imperfections standing out of place

and slice them until she was tripping over her own insecurities,

knowing that the weight of her heartache is worse than any number on that scale,

seeing a brighter world beyond the broken mirror but she’s too terrified to even look her reflection in the eyes:

 

Damn that pedestal you sit upon,

far higher than the standards you set in place of her esteem,

far stronger than the thin ice keeping her afloat,

further away from the truth the longer she hangs on by a thread.

 

If reflections could talk then hers would be the loudest,

hers would be screaming from every shattered frame,

finding a voice that was once silenced by her fear to stand out,

and show the world that she was more than her stretch marks,

she was more than bruised hips and bitten lips,

she was more than her scars,

she was more than fragments falling to the floor.

 

But they forget that we are not our reflections,

we are not our shadows,

and if perfection could exist,

every wandering soul,

every broken heart,

every empty shell,

would be whole again.

 

Then, I would not need to look down that hall of mirrors,

terrified to look my reflection in the eyes,

but when I do,

my insides crumble because that person staring back at me,

is not who I want to be.

Share:
Published inMain

Be First to Comment

    Leave a Reply