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Most people would want to travel
To the ends of other worlds
But for me, I am merely fascinated
Of the universe inside this girl

The girl in the looking glass
She, who shares the same face
Such a multifaceted being
A rarity one cannot replace

For so long I have observed her
Yet, she surpasses my expertise
Facts about her turn into fables
She is an ever-changing entity

Observations become opinions
And conclusions are commentary
Assumptions are only illusions
For those who try to define me
ALesiach Jul 24
ensnared by her beauty
she stares into the looking glass
vanity is her bliss


ALesiach © 05/22/2016
She was like a broken mirror
Anything beautiful, she would reflect
A reflection abnormally distorted
Her perspective could not connect
She could not see the sparkle
Of the sunset sprinkled on the waves
She couldn't share the happiness of others
Because her feelings weren't quite the same
People's smiles were always crooked
Compliments were always misheard
Acts of kindness were disappointments
Expressions of love were just words
She was tired of being broken
Constantly blinded to beauty
She gave up holding her pieces together
Loosening her grip more than slightly
Her broken pieces then fell apart
Into a pile of shattered looking glass
She laid there with her hollow frame
As she could finally rest at last
Her self destruction symbolized
Her innermost desire for rebirth
Her lack of knowing what was beauty
Did not take away her worth
She realize her vision's distortion
Only showcased her perception
Her definition of beauty
Was different beyond interpretation
She arranged her shattered pieces
In a way her beauty befits
On the ground where she laid
Was a beautiful mosaic
Why was I born an obstacle?
Why is being a woman, considered as one?
For I can learn and I am capable
Yet none of it matters, for I am not a son
If you truly need more soldiers
Please just take me instead
My father knows no limits, but I do
Just treat me as one of your men
I will fulfill my role as a soldier
I am a female and a fighter
I am a woman and a warrior
I may not be perfect
But I will fight for her
The girl in the looking glass
Who has failed as a daughter
She will fulfill her role as a soldier
She is a woman, she is a warrior
She is the girl worth fighting for
Brianne Rose Jun 2017
Alice! Alice! Come here, Come look at this chalice!
Alice! Alice! Come! Take a stroll through my wonderful Palace!

Alice! Alice! Tis' the Red Queen! She wants you dead!
"Alice! Alice! Tis' Off with your head!"

Alice! Alice! Hurry! Through this door!
Alice! Alice! The Red Queen is no more!

Alice! Alice! Wake up it's time for class!
Alice! Alice! Through the Looking Glass!
Based off the movie Alice through the Looking Glass, I've never seen it but i wanted to do an Alice in Wonderland themed poem, so here we are!
B Jan 2017
Swollen eyes, dark and deep,
Hollow pits from lack of sleep.
Rolling down her porcelain cheek,
A single tear, helpless and meek.
Downturned lips kept tightly shut,
Holding back thoughts and words that cut.

Bitten nails wrapped into fists,
Battle wounds curve round her wrists,
Hate and shame across her skin,
She learnt to hide it, she learnt to fit in.
Insecurities lurk beneath tattered clothes,
A world of secrets that no one knows.

The looking glass shows her broken, afraid,
And to herself this is how she’s portrayed,
But to lens and to eye this girl cannot be seen,
To the world she appears as any other teen.
Surrounded by friends she laughs loud and smiles wide,
So no one will know the pain she suffers inside.
Written for a mental health awareness poetry competition at uni
jane taylor May 2016
hitherto i naively challenged
my decision to enter an ominous existence
a vicious maze veiled in obscurity
inconceivable to navigate without the accumulation
of bruises, heartache, and psychic mutilation

the torment’s ache so unfathomable
i begged to evaporate beseeching death’s arrival
and with the dexterity of a masterful wizard
i magically spun threads of my shredded soul
into a mangled ball of mental lacerations

then stealthily in the opaque of the night
i rushed the frigid black ocean’s high tide
and deluging myself in the ebony water
i buried the battered ball
now deeply eclipsed in the onyx abyss

it sapped all my strength to hold it under
drowning in the wave’s of sea motion
stinging salt alive on my pours
gasping for air i surrendered my grip
releasing my marred orb of élan vital

capitulating to the sand on the beach
i ceded the fight and watched the sphere roll
unraveling it glistened against the white sand
an opalescent tapestry lit by twilight
mirroring the stars against the coal sky

in the lustrous lunar midnight
reflected back by silver moonlight
littered with specks of fluorescent insight
astonished i drew in my breath as i read
words interlaced in the untangled web

the wounds are there
creating a looking glass
peer in
and you will heal
your own consciousness

©2016janetaylor
Chris Thomas Apr 2016
One second glance
Into the looking glass
And I am swept away into a fantasy
Whisked by gales I try not to withstand

Radiant, brilliant, like a summer's eve
You cast a spectrum of light into my soul
Fragrant, ravishing, like flora from Atlantis
You tug and pull at every tout string

I am obliterated with beauty
And awash with such fair grace
Destroyed by the sweetness of your lips
Made whole again by a touch of your hand

If I open my lips I may be speechless
But you walk the ground within my mind
Read me quickly before I wither away
And my song will echo the great divide
Mollie Grant Mar 2016
The duvet is disheveled—
hanging onto the mattress,
half draping the ebony stained
floor. Admiral Blue walls are illuminated
by two brass pendant lights
that have sprouted from the ceiling
and are growing off of
the bitter ends of
the anchor rode.

My attention is pulled down
by the locket
weighing from my neck
as the silver braid bites
with chill and I stay on the bed
and focus on that brightwork
laying on my chest and
I keep trying to ignore
the far corner of the room
by the vanity because
I keep trying to ignore
your blubber-skinned suitcase
painted in barnacles, sitting on the floor,
mouth wide open, like it is just there waiting
to swallow you whole and
spit you back out at the next harbor—
I swear, I think it is trying
to rename you Jonah.

Tonight, like every other night before
that you have stepped from my deck
to throw yourself into the sea,
I will find myself,
after the moon has risen,
after the tide has shifted,
and after the town has fallen asleep,
wandering aimlessly down the hand paved
roads that weave along the port to sit
with *your life, your love, and your lady.
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