the reflection in the mirror
does not feel like my own
no—there is something so
starkly different about her
the curve of her smile
the flush of her cheeks
—it does not look like the face of a girl
whose entire being shakes with rage
whose mind is more in control than she is
those are not my eyes
they don't strain in the darkness
like they're scared the night will swallow them
if they are not watching carefully
that is not my mouth
it is not scarred from the needle
my father used to sew it closed
it is still speaking with a tongue
that was cut out ages ago
no—nothing about that girl is right
her makeup is too perfect
her teeth are too straight
she is just too pretty
to ever look like me.
YOU ARE READING
wilting roses
PoetryAnother collection of (bad) poems. *tw: mentions of sexual assault, drug use, drinking, suicidal ideation and self harm* -a collection of poems that document my experiences with my mental health throughout high school. a warning: i had a few undiagn...
