The One Who Lives In My Reflection


At the age of 10
she told me I wasn't going to be pretty for the rest of my life
she convinced me
building up the strife
of war between my ego and my conscience.
you're just a little girl with a big nose,
she said
and cheap Medicaid glasses
slipping off your face
when you pry your eyes down to books.

Apart of me began to withdraw from the world
and dig myself beneath insecurities
and they stuck to me.
After each new year
new day,
new season
I had been convinced that my flaws stuck out my skin
as thorns on a roses stem
hurting you before you were able to acknowledge
my sense of beauty.
I hid behind masks of fake acceptance,
pretending to be in contentment.
When tears began to stain my cheek bones
she stood there with the same expression.

She had an impact on me,
what she felt,
I felt it worse
and when the days grew tiresome of feeling 
like an under layer of a being
I envisioned the day I'd punch her right in the face,
shattering pieces of her existence down to my ankles
and I'll bleed,
crying out insanity
begging, I'll plead
Leave me be.

You're not me, nor am I you
Because the proportions of my face
do not determine my beauty
the thinness of my spine
does not determine my bravery
the weakness of my limbs
does not determine my strength
I was caught hesitant 
because there lied a dark cloud of fear 
and I so unaware 
that there are days when the sun comes out.
So when I held up my fist ready for my first fight I'd swing at
the girl restricting me to be happy
attempting to lock up every barrier hiding away the truth.

When the mirrors whispered stories
I thought were tales
my vision shifted
she once looked me in the eyes and said I deserve nothing
and I stood before her taking in what I was being fed.

I look at her in the reflecting glass
and I say you are flawed
but it is the way I squint my eyes at you in focus
that though with ugly words you say in sadness
you are flawless.
And as I tell her this the darkness behind her heavy head
faints into nothing
her eyes grow fixed
her ears twitch into listening.
Your hidden depth of beauty radiates through the darkness of your pupils,
and they dilate when I tell her this
revealing her glistening eyes.
You are flawless
you are not the ugliness of your conscience
your features don't determine your beauty.
She stands there with the look of relief
Beautiful girl,
your hair like fallen leaves mid autumn,
Your breathe so sweet with poetry,
your emotions deep.
You are flawless.
And there she walks away from the mirrors edge


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