distortion

does the frustration finally hit you

when you can’t see yourself in the glass?

when the mirror’s image does not reflect

the way you see yourself.

maybe that distortion is real

and not just the jagged shards.

of where you let your fist strike the mirror

that would not show your face.

bend and twist and turn yourself

as the reflection is so far skewed.

the fragments and shattered pieces

shining at every corner of the room.

and still you cannot see

anything that resembles yourself.

maybe it’s time to stop looking

and just accept what it is you see.

she’s selfish that one whose image

is shimmering back at you.

and in that she’s lost all her shine

a dull image that stares you in the face.

she’s bitter as well and that taste is evident

in that grimace where a smile once was.

grown hateful from the inside yet it’s coming out

she can’t hide it for very long.

angry too, she wears this feeling

like a cloak thrown over her back.

its weight is heavy and drags her down

but she carries it in spite of herself.

she judges, she stares, she covets

and she has lost all sight of herself.

raging and tearing herself apart

from the inside, she’s coming undone.

how did this happen, when did she fall

so utterly far away.

from the heart that once loved so openly

with a capacity she’d never seen.

when did she let herself die inside

to the point that she can’t hide.

the bitterness seeping out of her pores

and leaving visible stains.