When I used to look in the mirror, I would see
A girl who struggled, but yet was sometimes pretty.
I struggled with my relationship with my family.
Although they clothed, fed, housed, and spoiled me,
Physical affection remained a scarce commodity.
That initial crack is what made me so vulnerable.
Cracks were easily created every other trial.
From bullying to breakups
Ugly without makeup
I was fed into siturations of pain
Situations that would shake me up until I went insane
And so when I looked in the mirror,
I saw this scared little girl about to shatter.
The cracks just add on and on
Once I was in high school, my naivete was gone
Struggling with sexuality and drugs
Lying and becoming a thug
Losing sight of the beautiful girl
Who lost reason to believe in herself and fell to the world.
She's been trying to restore what was once whole
But she knows the dark condition of her soul
No longer believing she can be forgiven
Barely believing she will one day make it to heaven
But most of this fails to compare
To the mental illness making its tear
She gets diagnosed with bipolar disorder
And she feels like a hopeless, inadequate daughter
So the new crack in the mirror resonates
And the renewed clarity begins to dissipates
As she learns on how to cope
She is trying to find just one more hope
Something to lift her up from this trial
Or something to help her run the remaining miles
Until she reaches the line of death
Until then, she just lives breath by breath.