The rose of my compass spins wildly,

Desperately chasing after this world’s unachievable goals.

Direction has no meaning here.

The path has been lost and long since forgotten.

 

A thick fog has set in,

Though I can’t quite recall when.

My vision has become streaked,

By the tears of shallow aspirations.

 

How did I lose myself in this unending sea,

Drowning among the judgement?

When did I begin to feel so inadequate?

My identity has been hidden from me.

 

I can remember a time,

Before my innocent mind had been

Poisoned by this destructive view.

A time when I did not dread my reflection.

 

Such perspective has faded away

And gave light to a new thinking.

This world encourages self-hatred.

When did we decide to go to war with ourselves?

 

My worth is far greater than I can see.

If I could just remember to love

Such raw imperfections,

The mirror might not haunt me like this.

 

The path is not clear or definite,

And each step will be a struggle.

My compass can’t seem to find

The true north of beauty.