Dear you in the mirror,
I don't understand;
Why?

Sincerely,
Myself on the other side.

I'm trying hard to run to catch the firefly as the night stalls.
Emitting such a beautiful pastel blue light, the size of an 8 ball.
The closer I get, the faster it darts away.
I can try to sleep, but I feel too jittery to lay.
Silly little bug, I just want to catch you!
I want to put you in my mason jar and stare into your orb of baby blue.
I...
Almost...
Got...
You...
...
Stop making me run so much, I keep tripping...
I can feel the grass under my feet tipping.

You're at the grasp of my fingertips as you taunt me with your flickering light.
I stand on my tippy toes and reach up into the night.

I'm...
Almost...
There...
...
But you fly away into the vent.
Why won't you come to me? I'll even pay your rent!
Am I doing something wrong?
I can attempt to sing you a lullaby song...
...But you still won't come out of there.
I shake my head and brush away my hair.
I take a deep sigh and see you as a loss cause.
I take a step and fall onto my knees, immediately looking up and I pause.
I'm in my room as my skin breaks and bleeds.
You fly across my face one more time in an evil attempt to tease.

Stupid...- Wait, this isn't what my real eyes see.
I look in the mirror and there She is, staring back at me.

...It wasn't real, right? It was just my imagination?
****... why does this keep happening again?

   b
               e
                                      c
     a
                                                          u
                        s
e          

y                            
                              o
  u

d                
         ­                                             o
               n
'    
                                                                ­                    t                        

                  ­         l
i              
               s      
                                                 t
e                ­          
                    n
.

I'm not sure who I am yet,
I'm sure where I'm going,
I don't know if I'll ever be,
Really truly me,
We spend our time inventing ourselves,
And i guess I'm just spare parts,
The way my mind thinks,
Music is my art,
A titles half the story,
A picture worth a thousand words,
I've spent my life regretting,
And feeling no self worth,
I've gotten sick and tired,
Of being sick and tired,
I've felt the way we all we feel,
At 3am alone.
I've started to stay on the internet,
Into wee hours of the morning,
Gathering scattered information.
I see my week,
A flashing blurr of distorted colors,
Emotions whirling everywhere,
Trailing one another,
I'm not sure where I'm going,
Or if you'll follow me,
I'm not sure of my roots,
If I was planted like a tree,
I haven't spent much time,
Inventing myself,
Not as much as wishing I was someone else,
But it is time to own up to,
The real and true me,
And maybe then I'll understand....

Who I'm supposed to be