Life Through Mirrors

She stares at herself though her self doesn’t stare back Trapped between shards of glass, stuck in the cracks Everything else behind her reflected clear and blatant But when she looks where her reflection should be the image remains vacant Examining every inch, fracture, crevice, surface If only she could discover meaning, something, anything, purpose In the present who she is remains unseen With no label or shape, she can only dream Shapeless and contorted, hopeless and distorted With deformed bones of identity she isn’t even supported Her body lay limp echoed off the mirror in a heap of self-disarray With no clarity and confusion she suffocates and retreats in dismay And while far from satisfactory she glances over her shoulder and reaches a conclusion She is, who she is, even if she’s only an illusion