Jan 7
I despise the face that greets me,
a hollow echo of who I should be.
Eyes like storm-worn glass,
carrying the weight of too many stares,
yet unseen by all.
The smile—fragile, trembling—
fractures under its own weight,
crumbling into silence.
I do not laugh anymore— not for you, not for them, not even for myself. The mirror holds my shame, reflecting a stranger I am too afraid to face.
I hide behind walls, away from prying eyes, because this version of me should never be seen.
Makeup can’t mask the cracks beneath, the jagged edges that bleed through. Don’t ask for pictures; you wouldn’t want to see them. Even I can’t bear to look without breaking.
And these arms— they wear stories carved in shadow, etched into skin like silent screams. My hands have never known the warmth of being held. My shoulders, always drawn tight, carry the weight of fear— fear of touch, fear of knowing, fear of being known.
Don’t look at me. These eyes hold no stars, only the dark void where light once lived. My lips form no words, only screams I’ve swallowed to keep the world from breaking with me.
The mirror doesn’t lie. It shows a ruin, a failure. And I? I turn away, tears blurring the lines of my reflection, wishing I could wear another life, another face, just for a moment.
I know I am not what you hoped for. So leave. Run from the monster I see in my reflection. Find someone untouched by shadows, someone whole, someone worthy.
I am not the dream you deserve. You will shatter if you try to hold me. So go— before my edges cut into your hands.
I was never enough— not for you, not for anyone, not even for myself. I can’t heal you. I can’t heal me. I can’t be the light when my own flame has burned to ash.
I give all I have, and still, it is never enough.
And yet, somewhere in the quiet, a whisper stirs: what if someone, someday, could see past the fractures? What if someone could love the chaos, the scars, the raw, unpolished edges of me? What if someone could find beauty where I see only ruin?
Just once, I want to see myself through their eyes— to meet the version of me they believe exists. To hear a voice, soft and certain, say, “You are enough. You are worthy.” To watch the cracks fade into gold, the shadows soften into light, until the stranger in the mirror becomes someone I finally recognize.
I do not laugh anymore— not for you, not for them, not even for myself. The mirror holds my shame, reflecting a stranger I am too afraid to face.
I hide behind walls, away from prying eyes, because this version of me should never be seen.
Makeup can’t mask the cracks beneath, the jagged edges that bleed through. Don’t ask for pictures; you wouldn’t want to see them. Even I can’t bear to look without breaking.
And these arms— they wear stories carved in shadow, etched into skin like silent screams. My hands have never known the warmth of being held. My shoulders, always drawn tight, carry the weight of fear— fear of touch, fear of knowing, fear of being known.
Don’t look at me. These eyes hold no stars, only the dark void where light once lived. My lips form no words, only screams I’ve swallowed to keep the world from breaking with me.
The mirror doesn’t lie. It shows a ruin, a failure. And I? I turn away, tears blurring the lines of my reflection, wishing I could wear another life, another face, just for a moment.
I know I am not what you hoped for. So leave. Run from the monster I see in my reflection. Find someone untouched by shadows, someone whole, someone worthy.
I am not the dream you deserve. You will shatter if you try to hold me. So go— before my edges cut into your hands.
I was never enough— not for you, not for anyone, not even for myself. I can’t heal you. I can’t heal me. I can’t be the light when my own flame has burned to ash.
I give all I have, and still, it is never enough.
And yet, somewhere in the quiet, a whisper stirs: what if someone, someday, could see past the fractures? What if someone could love the chaos, the scars, the raw, unpolished edges of me? What if someone could find beauty where I see only ruin?
Just once, I want to see myself through their eyes— to meet the version of me they believe exists. To hear a voice, soft and certain, say, “You are enough. You are worthy.” To watch the cracks fade into gold, the shadows soften into light, until the stranger in the mirror becomes someone I finally recognize.
