I played with the charcoal pillow on my head,
My greedy fingers refusing to let go of those soft strands,
I stared into the mirror to get the pillow to rest,
When I saw the monster society had created.
A self-centered human being who thought everything nothing,
Her dress must be crisp and no crease should be shown,
Her fingers were polished and there was not a single cuticle out.
But these same fingers used to be so sickly,
Her body covered with marks of a razor’s edge
Her heart bruised with the words of others
And in her painful flashback she remembers the words,
“I am used to it”
I don’t see that pain filled girl in that mirror anymore
I smirk; this is the best for me I thought
And then mirror cracked and my reflection was broken
When I saw the monster society had created was no better than the sickly girl.
I wasn’t accepted by my own soul.