The Loss of Oneself

She had tears for breakfast,

The salt leaving her tongue parched.

In a world full of hate,

Hatred of self was the first uninvited guest.

Feelings of inadequacy overflow,

The dam protecting her heart

Broken by none other than herself.

Nourished by playing with perfect dolls,

Media only had to prick her finger

To shatter her ideas of self

And prevent her thoughts

From extending past the surface.

Of all losses,

The loss of oneself is perhaps

The most blurred.

Because to not know who you are

Is to become a shadow of the world.

A clone without humanity

And no certainty of recovery.