Mirror, Mirror

You spit out 
a dry laugh 
to try to hide 
the death 
in your eyes.

The desert 
you call a soul 
is so full 
of memories 
that prick 
your mind 
like cactuses 
drawing pieces 
of your happiness 
like blood. 

You try 
to wash away 
the reflection 
in the mirror 
with the salty rivers 
pouring through 
your tear ducts, 
but that only blurs 
your view 
of reality. 

You use your blade 
to paint a more beautiful life 
on your thighs 
with crimson hopes 
that someone will notice.

The happiness 
of the life 
you once had known 
is buried deep 
in the graveyard 
of your thoughts 
but the skeletons 
you keep 
in your closet 
are in full view. 

You dress them 
in armor 
and they fight off 
the love of the ones 
who care for you 
like an elite force
of warriors determined 
on destroying 
the foreign feeling 
of compassion. 

You try to replace 
the feeling of love 
with the lust 
of boys who's tongues 
whip you with lies.

You plead with 
every God 
you have 
ever heard of 
every single night 
to save you 
from the darkness 
but the doubt 
in your heart
snuffs out their light.

Every day 
you kill off 
another piece 
of your self
with the sword
of depression 
leaving an 
empty shell 
of a person 
in your place. 

When are you going 
to realize that 
you're my reflection 
and I'm trying 
to shatter the mirror?


This poem is about: 


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