mirror, mirror 

on the wall  

reflecting all my superficial flaws 

the lines you trace 

lack the grace 

you draw me with a heavy hand  

lopsided ways  

a toddler's game.  


mirror, mirror on the wall 

your honesty is appreciated  

but I don't think it's fair at all 

to reflect my stringy locks  

scarred arms and stubby legs  

so very well  


I don't feel beautiful in this town 

your cousin windows 

tire me so  


I can't go anywhere   

without catching a glimpse 

like a horror film  

I just can't resist 

seeing the pale face  

the frizzy blonde explosion  

and chubby cheeks  

staring back


the outside  

such a contrast  

to what is inside. 


but when I lay in the grass 

soaking up the sun  

watching the clouds change  

I feel content 


when I climb into the hills 

watch the stars  


stand within the boughs 

of a pine  

close enough 

to breathe the scent  

of home   


covered in mud  

hair full of sticks and leaves   


I feel like my indecisive eyes  

reflect the storm  


tangled hair the grass in winter   


smallness appropriate compared to the hugness of the universe 


and I feel truly lovely.

This poem is about: 


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