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.