The Lace Age | ongoing.

33

I see her walking across the courtyard, her hands awkwardly at her sides. She seems to focus on her footsteps, just trying to make it to class.

I want to walk with her.

There are tears rolling down her cheeks, they litter her hands, hands that try to hide them.

I want to hold her.

Her eyes glisten when she laughs and she always laughs, something so melodious you'd want to put it on replay for the entire day.

I want to tell her she's beautiful.

And when she thinks she's ugly, when she doubts her amazing capabilities,

I want to hug her.

So why can't i love her when she looks back at me in the mirror.

-outsider