When
We were weren't we
worn with worry
worn without
and within
We were weren't we
where the waste washed-in
watering wilted weeds
of whatever it was...
What was it we were
wearing-away
as waters wept
and wrung these
weathered wigs...
wore us out
wore us in
will we weigh-in?
will we? win?
waiting as
we were
we were
waiting
weren't
we? still
In the mirror
In the
mirror
dark eyes
that smile
and hide
sad eyes
that cry
smooth skin
that belies
years lived
laughing
hiding
crying
faint lines
that point
to much
laughter
and age.
soft lips
that smile
easily
that kiss
gently
that speak
kindly
a woman
who was
a child
who will
perhaps
grow old
who lives
to love
indeed
who loves
deeply
but not
alas
the one
in the
mirror.
Shape Shifter
There's a monster residing in mirror. I wake up every morning, wondering what form she's going to take on that day. Sometimes she looks like myself, sometimes she looks like a different version of me, but I still can never fully recognize the girl I see. She's always changing, always shifting, never set on just one look. This monster seems like she can't ever be happy with herself or the way that I look, she always has to change something. One day she could look lovely. Her skin may be clear, her hair lovely and curled, her body perfect and proportioned, her happiness shining through at ever physical part of her. Another day she's disgusting and almost nothing like the girl I saw before. She'll be covered in anxious scratches, the bags under her eyes more prominent than ever, her hair flat, like her own self loathing is covering every inch of her body. The only part of us that stays relatively the same is our eyes, our eyes are always beautiful, always showing that we are alive, even if some day those colors are clouded.
I don't always know which part of me is going to be reflected that day, but it never really feels like it's me.
A Wonderful Woman
You are a strong, beautiful young woman
Who has been put through hell,
Who should not let her miserable past define who she is.
You are a strong, beautiful young woman
With both internal and external beauty,
Who is more than just a body or a face,
Who deserves much better,
And one day someone will see you for the woman you really are.
You are a strong, smart young woman
Who is growing through her writing,
Who will one day teach other young girls that they are worth more too.
You are a strong, smart young woman,
A woman with immense potential
Whose past has made her into the woman she is today.
You are a strong, powerful young woman
Whose voice can only get louder,
Whose words can only get more powerful.
You are a strong, powerful young woman
Who can create change if she is determined to use her voice,
Determined to put pen to paper.
You are a strong, talented young woman
Who must tell everyone her story
So that other teenagers can learn they are not alone
And parents can learn how to be there for their child in difficult times.
#empowerment #reflection #woman #poem #poetry #strength
In the Mirror
Looking into the translucent glass,
I see a woman, young in appearance
But aged beyond her years
A woman who has already been through struggle after struggle
A person who has had to face the adversity of life
And experienced too many doses of reality
More than anything, I see exhaustion
Dark bags caused by loss of sleep
And heaps of grief
A woman who, at the tender age of 21,
Is already tired of dealing with it all
Gazing back at me,
I see a person who is this close
To being done
My Mirror Also Says “Snow White”
You look like an atlas of your life.
It’s like your wrinkles are the highways and your scars are some roadblocks.
Like when we used to highlight on the map where we had gone.
It’s highlighted on you what you’ve done.
These grays must be all the times you were left out alone under a cold dark winters sky.
I’ve seen the twinkle in your eyes come and go over the years, probably from failed plans and dreams.
The pains thoughout your body sure aint there in that old photo album.
Nice to know we left some troubles in there anyways.....
Well old friend, I know the marks on your body and soul didn’t come without cost.
But let me say your lookin better than you did back in the day.
Feel lucky you didn’t leave it at that a long time ago.
With the crazy shit you used to do.
invisible faces
I can no longer see my face in the mirror
only the appearance of what it once was
and the fear of what it will become
the sadness etched into those piercing eyes
the worry plastered on skin through bumps of all kinds
the indecision marked by the wrinkles
"should i get plastic surgery?"
"what if i got eyeliner tattooed on my eyelids?"
"why can't i be pretty?"
the mantras of the morning echo through my brain but dig deep into my soul
the image i have told myself i was
so long
that it is now a part of me.
Lies.
When I look into the mirror, I do not see myself.
I see my flaws, my imperfections...
I see a ghost of what I once was.
A girl that has been broken down over, and over again until all that is left is her shadow.
The voices of men, the shrieks of the society have reduced her to a mere image.
Flesh ripped away as they called her fat and ugly.
Heart ripped out of her chest as they told her she was unlovable.
Brain devoured by the demons creating havoc in her broken mind and skeleton shattered into ashes as they told her that she was weak, that she was not unbreakable, she was nothing, she was no one, she was unworthy.
What good will a speech do?
Will it bring her back?
Maybe for a moment, a single moment, until she realises that the smile is still fake and her laughter only hides her tears.
Maybe it will make her feel strong again.
Feel better.
And then they will give her a good slap to welcome her back to the cold, harsh reality that is her life.
“You are beautiful.”
What a pretty lie.
“You don’t deserve the pain you have gone through, you were only a child.”
Yes, a stupid child, weak, foolish, blind, naive child.
“You are loved.”
No, I am not.
And if they knew what I truly was, the corruption, the rage, the fear, the insecurities, the hatred, the monster, they would have run a long time ago.
“Please, listen, this is the only way you can heal. It is the only way to be better. Do it for them, for those you love.”
You make me laugh, you liar.
It is funny.
It is the same people that I love that destroy me everyday, the same “family”, the same “friends”.
If I give up and fade away, I am letting them win.
If I rise above it, I let them win still, I allow them to have power over me.
So I stand in the balance, waiting for a Prince Charming I know will never come, hoping for illusions I see only in my dreams that will never exist.
“I love you!”
A pause.
A hesitation.
A glimmer of light in the darkness.
Nothing needs to be said, just a look at the tear stained face and fake smile of the shadow is all I need.
I am not me, not anymore, and she is never coming back.
But... Who knows?
Maybe I will change.
Be happy.
Be me.
Be free.
What a beautiful, broken lie.
Who are you?
A pretty face staring at me across the kitchen is my self portrait. She smiles at me with happy eyes. She has the look of somebody who knows wholeheartedly who they are; confident, well liked, successful, organized. But that face is a stranger to me even though it’s my own. I study these characteristics that are supposed to be mine. Who is this girl who seems like she has her life together? Is this how she appears to others? Like an Oracle, she looks like the kind of person who could answer all of my questions that I have no answers for, but sadly she cannot talk. All she can do is beam back at me a knowing look, like the way grandparents smile down at their grandchildren thinking fondly “someday you will learn.”
"Tell me what to do," I ask her anyway. "How do I accomplish the things I want? Do I ever reach my goals? Will I ever find the perfect guy, the one I'm meant to be with forever?"
"Look to yourself and you will find the answer," She seems to say. The irony tastes sour in my mouth. I'm asking a picture of myself what to do, can't look to myself more than that.
"Who even are you? What the hell are you doing with your life? Who are you going to be?" I ask myself as I stare past my smile and happy eyes, past the ebony hutch the portrait sits on, into empty space, thinking and wondering. "I'm going to be somebody... I just don't know who yet."
Conflict
"Honestly, do you ever expect to get anywhere with the effort you're giving?" Slowly turning around I come face to face with the man who was throwing an insult my way. "You can't actually be anything "great", you know that right? You won't be anyone important."
"Why is that?"
"Just think about it, are you the smartest kid around? Are you the fastest? Strongest?"
"Well, no..."
"So then who are you kidding? Why do you even try still? Surely even you must have picked up on that by now."
"But I have a lot of friends and they say..."
"They say what? How talented you are? How great you are? How many of those people you call your "friends" do you actually think care about you, huh?"
"I..."
"Stop right there. The answer is none."
"What's your goal here?"
"To open your eyes."
"To?"
"To everything you could be doing instead! You go to so many events to represent your school, you work all the time on planning events for your class, and you spend endless hours on sports that in the long run are meaningless!"
"So?"
"Imagine, instead of helping plan out a dance, you actually go to a party! You know the ones that you always say you're too busy for? Or how about all those games you have for high school, that with your practices take up a large chunk of your day every day! You could be going out with friends having a good time! You know, causing trouble and making memories."
"I like what I do."
"Oh, you do?"
"Yes."
"Then tell me why I say otherwise."
"Why does it matter?"
"Well that's simple, because I'm you."