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.