I am a mirror;

I am shattered into pieces.

These pieces can be put together,

but the mirror is still cracked.

I am empty;

I am hypersensitive.

These things scare some people,

but I promise to love you as best as I can.

She says I'm promiscuous;

she says I'm not trying to get better.

These words of hers only discourage me,

but I understand she doesn't know.

I am a broken mirror, but I am well;

I am not my borderline personality disorder.