Real Frame

Glancing out the dusty window,

I see the mist slowly fall,

I look into the mirror hanging on my wall,

I inspect myself thoroughly finding things to blame,

I pick and prod and tear apart my body’s external frame,

Hoping to find and answer,

I walk outside my door,

Looking up at the sky I see what I have been looking for,

The moon light’s beauty calms my mind,

As if it solves problems of any kind,

And now I think and feel awake,

And I realize that I’m glad my frame is real not fake.

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741