We were weren't we

worn with worry

worn without 

and within

We were weren't we

where the waste washed-in

watering wilted weeds

of whatever it was...

What was it we were

wearing-away

as waters wept

and wrung these

weathered wigs...

wore us out

wore us in

will we weigh-in?

will we? win?

waiting as

we were

we were

waiting

weren't 

we? still

In the

mirror

dark eyes

that smile

and hide

sad eyes

that cry

smooth skin

that belies

years lived

laughing

hiding

crying

faint lines

that point

to much

laughter

and age.

soft lips

that smile

easily

that kiss

gently

that speak

kindly

a woman

who was

a child

who will

perhaps

grow old

who lives

to love

indeed

who loves

deeply

but not

alas

the one

in the

mirror.

There's a monster residing in mirror. I wake up every morning, wondering what form she's going to take on that day. Sometimes she looks like myself, sometimes she looks like a different version of me, but I still can never fully recognize the girl I see. She's always changing, always shifting, never set on just one look. This monster seems like she can't ever be happy with herself or the way that I look, she always has to change something. One day she could look lovely. Her skin may be clear, her hair lovely and curled, her body perfect and proportioned, her happiness shining through at ever physical part of her. Another day she's disgusting and almost nothing like the girl I saw before. She'll be covered in anxious scratches, the bags under her eyes more prominent than ever, her hair flat, like her own self loathing is covering every inch of her body. The only part of us that stays relatively the same is our eyes, our eyes are always beautiful, always showing that we are alive, even if some day those colors are clouded.

I don't always know which part of me is going to be reflected that day, but it never really feels like it's me.

You are a strong, beautiful young woman

Who has been put through hell,

Who should not let her miserable past define who she is.

You are a strong, beautiful young woman

With both internal and external beauty,

Who is more than just a body or a face,

Who deserves much better,

And one day someone will see you for the woman you really are.

You are a strong, smart young woman

Who is growing through her writing,

Who will one day teach other young girls that they are worth more too.

You are a strong, smart young woman,

A woman with immense potential

Whose past has made her into the woman she is today.

You are a strong, powerful young woman

Whose voice can only get louder,

Whose words can only get more powerful.

You are a strong, powerful young woman

Who can create change if she is determined to use her voice,

Determined to put pen to paper.

You are a strong, talented young woman

Who must tell everyone her story

So that other teenagers can learn they are not alone

And parents can learn how to be there for their child in difficult times.

#empowerment #reflection #woman #poem #poetry #strength

Looking into the translucent glass,

I see a woman, young in appearance

But aged beyond her years

A woman who has already been through struggle after struggle

A person who has had to face the adversity of life

And experienced too many doses of reality

More than anything, I see exhaustion

Dark bags caused by loss of sleep

And heaps of grief

A woman who, at the tender age of 21,

Is already tired of dealing with it all

Gazing back at me,

I see a person who is this close

To being done

You look like an atlas of your life.

It’s like your wrinkles are the highways and your scars are some roadblocks.

Like when we used to highlight on the map where we had gone.

It’s highlighted on you what you’ve done.

These grays must be all the times you were left out alone under a cold dark winters sky.

I’ve seen the twinkle in your eyes come and go over the years, probably from failed plans and dreams.

The pains thoughout your body sure aint there in that old photo album.

Nice to know we left some troubles in there anyways.....

Well old friend, I know the marks on your body and soul didn’t come without cost.

But let me say your lookin better than you did back in the day.

Feel lucky you didn’t leave it at that a long time ago.

With the crazy shit you used to do.

I can no longer see my face in the mirror

only the appearance of what it once was

and the fear of what it will become

the sadness etched into those piercing eyes

the worry plastered on skin through bumps of all kinds

the indecision marked by the wrinkles

"should i get plastic surgery?"

"what if i got eyeliner tattooed on my eyelids?"

"why can't i be pretty?"

the mantras of the morning echo through my brain but dig deep into my soul

the image i have told myself i was

so long

that it is now a part of me.

When I look into the mirror, I do not see myself.

I see my flaws, my imperfections...

I see a ghost of what I once was.

A girl that has been broken down over, and over again until all that is left is her shadow.

The voices of men, the shrieks of the society have reduced her to a mere image.

Flesh ripped away as they called her fat and ugly.

Heart ripped out of her chest as they told her she was unlovable.

Brain devoured by the demons creating havoc in her broken mind and skeleton shattered into ashes as they told her that she was weak, that she was not unbreakable, she was nothing, she was no one, she was unworthy.

What good will a speech do?

Will it bring her back?

Maybe for a moment, a single moment, until she realises that the smile is still fake and her laughter only hides her tears.

Maybe it will make her feel strong again.

Feel better.

And then they will give her a good slap to welcome her back to the cold, harsh reality that is her life.

“You are beautiful.”

What a pretty lie.

“You don’t deserve the pain you have gone through, you were only a child.”

Yes, a stupid child, weak, foolish, blind, naive child.

“You are loved.”

No, I am not.

And if they knew what I truly was, the corruption, the rage, the fear, the insecurities, the hatred, the monster, they would have run a long time ago.

“Please, listen, this is the only way you can heal. It is the only way to be better. Do it for them, for those you love.”

You make me laugh, you liar.

It is funny.

It is the same people that I love that destroy me everyday, the same “family”, the same “friends”.

If I give up and fade away, I am letting them win.

If I rise above it, I let them win still, I allow them to have power over me.

So I stand in the balance, waiting for a Prince Charming I know will never come, hoping for illusions I see only in my dreams that will never exist.

“I love you!”

A pause.

A hesitation.

A glimmer of light in the darkness.

Nothing needs to be said, just a look at the tear stained face and fake smile of the shadow is all I need.

I am not me, not anymore, and she is never coming back.

But... Who knows?

Maybe I will change.

Be happy.

Be me.

Be free.

What a beautiful, broken lie.

A pretty face staring at me across the kitchen is my self portrait. She smiles at me with happy eyes. She has the look of somebody who knows wholeheartedly who they are; confident, well liked, successful, organized. But that face is a stranger to me even though it’s my own. I study these characteristics that are supposed to be mine. Who is this girl who seems like she has her life together? Is this how she appears to others? Like an Oracle, she looks like the kind of person who could answer all of my questions that I have no answers for, but sadly she cannot talk. All she can do is beam back at me a knowing look, like the way grandparents smile down at their grandchildren thinking fondly “someday you will learn.”

"Tell me what to do," I ask her anyway. "How do I accomplish the things I want? Do I ever reach my goals? Will I ever find the perfect guy, the one I'm meant to be with forever?"

"Look to yourself and you will find the answer," She seems to say. The irony tastes sour in my mouth. I'm asking a picture of myself what to do, can't look to myself more than that.

"Who even are you? What the hell are you doing with your life? Who are you going to be?" I ask myself as I stare past my smile and happy eyes, past the ebony hutch the portrait sits on, into empty space, thinking and wondering. "I'm going to be somebody... I just don't know who yet."

"Honestly, do you ever expect to get anywhere with the effort you're giving?" Slowly turning around I come face to face with the man who was throwing an insult my way. "You can't actually be anything "great", you know that right? You won't be anyone important."

"Why is that?"

"Just think about it, are you the smartest kid around? Are you the fastest? Strongest?"

"Well, no..."

"So then who are you kidding? Why do you even try still? Surely even you must have picked up on that by now."

"But I have a lot of friends and they say..."

"They say what? How talented you are? How great you are? How many of those people you call your "friends" do you actually think care about you, huh?"

"I..."

"Stop right there. The answer is none."

"What's your goal here?"

"To open your eyes."

"To?"

"To everything you could be doing instead! You go to so many events to represent your school, you work all the time on planning events for your class, and you spend endless hours on sports that in the long run are meaningless!"

"So?"

"Imagine, instead of helping plan out a dance, you actually go to a party! You know the ones that you always say you're too busy for? Or how about all those games you have for high school, that with your practices take up a large chunk of your day every day! You could be going out with friends having a good time! You know, causing trouble and making memories."

"I like what I do."

"Oh, you do?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me why I say otherwise."

"Why does it matter?"

"Well that's simple, because I'm you."