Lost

May 23, 2016

I take a long look into the mirror.

Wishing the reflection is a clear image.

The broken girl inside returns the stare.

Bloodshot,

Bags,

All involving her eyes.

I continue to stare at the broken girl,

Curiosity fills within me,

Wondering why no one saw the real her.

She is good yet she is evil,

She is happy yet she is broken,

No one still sees the real her.

I speak to her trying to mend her pain,

“He is hurting you”,

“Why do you keep going back?”,

“You are broken glass that is shattered everywhere”,

“Leave”,

Yet she repeats the same thing.

Does she seek being admired,

Or does she prevent that from happening?

Does she seek affection and support

Or does she prevent that from happening?

I stare at the broken girl in the mirror,

Wondering when she will have a fresh start,

Wondering when someone, just someone would be proud of her.

I reach out to the mirror to touch the girl in hopes to heal her,

But there was no effect besides the bloodshot stare.

With her deep stare, I feel my eyes begin to sweat from fear,

Fear for her.

When will someone see the real her- when will someone see the real me?

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