Throw stones
In the house of mirrors
Shatter the image
I like the delusion of perfection
I don't have to be real
I know what I look like,
I don't need to see
I need to feel something other than fear
You are standing at the base of a mountain and unafraid
I stand at the base of a hill and tremor
I don't need to see my hair out of place
Or my tired eyes
I know that my clothes are wrinkled
I don't need a reflection to tell me so
I'm OK with who I am now,
And I can try again *tomorrow.