I think I remember
the first time I lost control,
no longer that perfect child,
that good little girl.
I was hurricane winds,
lashing limbs,
shattered glass and ruined nails.
I was bitter sneers,
malice with a deep red,
burying shades of blue.

I bled purple,
purple of indigo nights and violet bruises,
violet bruises and violent bruises.
The first time I lost control
wasn't as a child it was when I was alone,
and that hated mirror finally cracked,
distortion free to extort me
of my fears, my loves, my laughs,
of my fear of losing control
and never being whole again.