I am a mirror.
I show myself
Things
That couldn't possibly be true.
I point out all my imperfections,
And succumb to
worrying about
What's on the outside,
Even though,
it's what on the inside,
that counts.

I am a mirror.
I can be clear,
But over time,
Like an antique
I've become dusty,
cracked,
Gripping
just barely
To the frame
The cracks
are not always visible
on the surface
But over time
They add up
Until the glass
*Shatters.

If you died tomorrow
What would you want them all to know?

That you loved having to conform?
That you appreciated the need to be the same?
That you were grateful for the chance to feel self conscious about your body?

No

You would tell them that you hated them
Their words
Both said
And unsaid
You hated their eyes
Looking
Judging
Never understanding

You would tell them that you found your place on earth
That you found your heaven
A place where love was real
Where friends laughed
Where people mattered
Not for clothes, hair, status, or money
But for the sole sake of being people

You would tell them that you were happy
And they still found a way to ruin it
And you hate them for it