I look in the mirror,
and I see
pox
scars
marks.
I long to be
the round faced girl
that I see in my memories
with eyes that dance with innocence
despite everything she had been through.
That saw fairies and dragons
in the corners of her room
Who talked to mermaids
and danced with bards
Some would call it an overactive imagination.
But I'm faced with the dullness
in my eyes
and I miss the worlds I created.
Because this one
hurts.