When you look into the mirror what do you see
What do you notice first
Your eyes
Your hair
Your lips
Or do you simply notice you
When you see that mirror there
Are you drawn to it
Drawn to the idea of seeing how you look
To see how everyone sees you
Are you drawn to the mirror that lets you see
Lets you see the beautiful array of colours in your eyes
Lets you see how your face crinkles when you smile
The mirror that lets you see what you yourself cannot

The day you left
I remember it like it was yesterday
The day that you left
My world was torn apart
From the inside out
I no longer had you
A day felt like a month
A month felt like a year
A year felt like a lifetime
Waking up each day
Knowing you were gone
Knowing that the person I looked up to
Was gone forever

Who am I?
A question I am asked in every new class and every interview.
Something that seems to be so easy to answer.
A few months ago I had to write about who I am.
I pushed it off for days and days thinking it will be easy.
It wasn't, it was in fact the complete opposite.
I sat there for hours and hours,
Staring at a blank page with a pen in hand.
Who am I?
What words define me?
Which box do I fit in?
Well, the answer is I don't know.
If you looked at me today and asked,
"Choose one word that defines you."
I would say, I don't know.
I don't know which box I am categorized in.
I don't know where I really belong.
I know my beliefs and what I believe to be true.
However, I do not know who I am.

Glass shatters.
It shatters into a million pieces;
A million fragments.
These tiny pieces scattered onto the ground.
Unfixable.
Unusable.
Discarded.

In a world of millions,
In a place of thousands,
You are one in a billion.
You say you are nothing much.
As simple as pen and paper.
As plain as the ice on those frostbitten days.
Though you don't seem to know...
Pen and paper, though they appear simple-
are something I have always adored.
You are something I have always adored.
And as for those frostbitten days...
Those days when my fingers go numb after the seconds outside.
Those days where my whole body is cold.
I cherish those days;
As I am grateful that I have a warm place to return.
I am grateful for you.
So my love.
The one with the deep brown eyes.
The eyes captivate me daily.
You may think you are plain and simple-
But you are so much more than what you see.

I walk alone down an empty hall.
I hear the voices behind me.
Every step I take they become louder and louder;
I quicken my pace.
My footsteps echo around me
As my feet hit the floor.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
With every step, they grow louder.
With every step, the voices scream.
They scream until I can no longer hear the footsteps.
They scream telling me to stop.
I reach the door...
My hand rests on the rusted golden ****.
My breath catches in my throat,
I can feel as my hands become clammy, and
Sweats comes down my forehead in beads.
My eyes dart from side to side-
The voices still screaming.
"You can't leave"
"You won't go"
Voicing my doubts and insecurities.
They scream inside my head!
They yearn to tear me down;
To create this void of darkness that I am constantly trapped in.
Oh, that void,
A place of emptiness;
Full of darkness.
A place where the voices thrive-
Picking up on every single thing
And using it all against me.
A place that I refuse to go back to.
So, as my eyes focus on the rusted ****
My hand reaches out.
I stretch my fingers and clasp them around it.
Feeling the coldness of the metal shock my body.
I rotate my hand 90 degrees,
The **** creaks and groans as the door is opened.
Automatically I swing the door open
I hear the voices start to quiet.
I take one step,
Then two,
Then three.
I breathe in the fresh air;
My lungs fill up.
A cloud of smoke appears as I release the air trapped inside.
I start to walk,
Leaving my anxiety-ridden mind behind.

When I was 2 years old.
I did not know true pain,
I did not know true fear.
My life was full of rainbows.
When I was 2 years old-
My innocence was my beauty.
Years went by;
I was now 8 years old.
I knew pain,
I knew fear
The rainbows in my life no longer there.
The rainbows replaced with storms;
Storms of violence, of pain and fear.
My perseverance was my beauty.
6 more years pass,
I was 14.
Full of pain.
Full of fear.
I was scared of life.
My beauty was gone.
Now 3 years later...
I still know pain,
I still know fear.
But things have changed.
The rainbows look down on me once again.
The pain - still there, but less prominent.
The fear, following me - but no longer dominant.
So, now at 17.
I live, I understand and I love.
When I was 2 years old my beauty was my-
Innocence.
When I was 8 years old my beauty was my-
Perseverance.
When I was 14 years old my beauty was gone.
My beauty no longer missing.
It is no longer hidden.
My beauty has arisen.
My beauty, now...
At 17 years old.
My beauty now is;
My 17 years of pain,
My 17 years of fear,
My 17 years of experiences,
My beauty is me.
I am my beauty.