Tears of the Fabric Girl

My mirror is overflowing.

The best-of-me's been up my sleeve,

but the self-potential has begun to slit my wrists.

These secrets keeping all the secrets secret to my own mirror is cracking and distorting the image.

The fabric girl tears.

And tears divide the face of the fabric girl.

The girl screams to the mirror, and which cracks ?

These secrets are written on me, on the mirror, and

so I shatter them both and sweep up the glass girl, and lock them, 

and I know her features come out on my own.  But I have all these angles to show people, clothes and wit to block them from dark sides, 2-D is easier than 3-D to stay in the lines, deference and diffidence to disguise my self-demise.

I miss the girl some times.  

She knew me best of all.