Who am I?
I stand there looking in the mirror
Watching, waiting for the answer.
That young face aged from the many pains hidden away.
Those hazel eyes burning deep holes into my soul, searching for that piece of lost happiness.
These soft hands clinging to her used body.  This body that is torn, hated, unappreciated.
Her pretty hair tattered from the many sleepless nights.
She stands there looking back at me but that is not what others see.
So then who am I?
I know who I want to see sometimes I can see her staring back at me.
Her face shining from the happiness as bright as the sun.
Never angry, not a worry in her heart.
Her eyes so soft and voice as sweet as a song.
Love overflowing from her like the oceans breeze.
She is young.
She is beautiful.
She is ****.
She is me
but it is just a dream.