She stands before the cracked glass pane,
A shadow draped in whispers of pain.
Eyes hollow, rimmed with a sleepless despair,
She searches for someone—someone not there.
Seventeen summers, yet no light remains,
Her heart a battlefield of silent chains.
Each dream she weaved has unraveled slow,
A tapestry of wounds she cannot show.
She burns with fire she cannot command,
An inferno of thoughts she can’t understand.
The passion inside is a chaotic storm,
But the conviction to steer is shattered, deformed.
Her voice quivers like a bird in the cold,
The words she swallows, stories untold.
She yearns to scream, to shatter the air,
But silence binds her—she doesn’t dare.
In her chest, an aching void resides,
A hollow echo where hope once thrived.
The weight of the world bends her spine,
Yet she smiles—a counterfeit sign.
Her mind’s a gallery of haunting art,
Each frame a memory that tears her apart.
The mocking laughter, the cold disdain,
Echo like thunder, magnifying the pain.
She drowns in mirrors that show her scars,
Counting her flaws beneath dim-lit stars.
The girl she sees is a stranger, a lie,
An unwanted ghost she can’t defy.
Her hands shake as she clutches the air,
Grasping for meaning that isn’t there.
Her thoughts are daggers, sharp and cruel,
Each one branding her the eternal fool.
She wishes to feel, but the numbness spreads,
A frost that blankets her soul in dread.
The warmth of joy seems lifetimes away,
A flickering candle in endless gray.
Why can’t she be the girl they demand?
The perfect portrait, the steady hand?
Why does her heart rage like the sea,
When all she wants is to simply be?
Her mind whispers lies in the dead of night,
A chorus of shadows stealing her light.
"You’re unworthy," they hiss, "You’re weak, a mistake."
And she believes, as her fragile dreams break.
The world moves on, unseeing, unkind,
Leaving her drowning, trapped in her mind.
Each day a struggle, a silent fight,
Against the growing void, against the night.
But buried deep in her battered core,
A tiny ember fights to restore.
Though faint and trembling, it refuses to die,
A spark of defiance beneath her sigh.
Yet she wonders, will it ever be enough?
To mend the fractures, to grow from the rough?
Or will she fade like a forgotten tune,
Lost in the silence of a pale, cold moon?
She stands before the cracked glass pane,
Her tears falling like relentless rain.
In her reflection, she sees her despair,
And wishes for courage to repair.
To the girl in the mirror, I write this plea:
You are not your scars; you can be free.
Though conviction falters, your soul still burns,
And from the ashes, strength returns.
But for now, she lingers in her pain,
A storm-tossed ship in the cruelest rain.
And as the world sleeps, she cries unheard,
A broken melody without a word.
