The Girl In The Mirror

I am looking into a mirror.
 
I see myself, yet I see someone else.
 
I don’t know who this girl in the mirror is.
 
Her brown hair was messy and tangled.
 
They came in clumps, folding over her shoulders.
 
Her dark brown eyes were both swollen and red.
 
Her tanned skin was dirty and littered.
 
Blue and purple marks, in the shapes of hands
 
Made her skin unrecognizable.
 
Her clothing was torn, ragged, covered in dirt.
 
Red.
 
Red was stained here, and there.
 
Who was this girl?
 
She looked like no one I’ve ever seen
 
I lifted my hand up to touch my face.
 
The image of the girl in the mirror,
 
She copied me slowly.
 
My ice cold hand touched my face.
 
And the girl in the mirror flinched away.
 
Pain
 
It seared through my cheek
 
And crawled down to my jaw
 
Then escalating to my temple.
 
The girl in front of me cringed
 
She shut her left eye tightly,
 
Still keeping eye contact with me.
 
Who was she?
 
I tore my gaze away from her
 
And my eyes fell down to my own body.
 
I almost gasped at the sight I saw.
 
I looked up to the girl again.
 
But I knew something else then.
 
At that moment, I knew.
 
I was that girl in the mirror.
 
This poem is about: 
Our world

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