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.