Mirrors were never my friend,
But I hung around them anyways.
Even when they showed me everything there was to hate about me.
When I could've just ignored what I saw,
Covered it with a blanket.
I didn't.
I used what was against me to become above that.
Become a reflection I liked.
I thought I could do that.
But then I became more and more obsessed with loving my reflection than me.
YOU ARE READING
The Book of Healing
PoetryShe's not okay, but writing it down helps. - Part I: It's time to rip off the band-aid. Poems: slam, traditional, free-verse. The first twenty are not up to par with the others, but this is an ongoing journey so I feel the need to include them...
