my reflection,
stares back at me,
with all my insecurities,
flying around
behind me.
my reflection,
unmoving,
still and lifeless,
makes me
conscience.
my reflection,
at age 5,
was happy and enthusiastic,
dressed in bright colours
and loved to smile.
my reflection,
at age 9,
was insecure and semi,
unhappy
with the changes going on.
my reflection,
at age 12,
was unhappy and hated life,
hated herself
because of how fat she was.
my reflection,
at age 15,
became a little happier,
but only a little
because she was still fat.
my reflection,
at age 16,
kind of accepts herself,
only kind of
because she will always be fat.
my reflection,
at age 16,
isn't perfect,
not for society
and not for anyone.
my reflection,
at age 16,
will never be enough,
for you,
or for anyone.