~~~~~~¡TRIGGER WARNING!~~~~~
I'm standing,
Looking at the reflection in front of me.
Although I know this is me,
I cannot recognize myself.
The happy, shining girl I used to know,
Is now grey and dull.
The only things that marked my skin were drawings of flowers and hearts.
But now,
The only drawings there are are etched by blades.
I know this is supposed to be me,
And I know I should not look life my life has slowly driven away from me,
But
I cannot help looking like the girl I promised myself I wouldn't become.
I used to be happy.
But now,
I'm just a stranger staring at a mirror.
YOU ARE READING
Rigor Samsa
Poetry"n. a kind of psychological exoskeleton that can protect you from pain and contain your anxieties, but always ends up cracking under pressure or hollowed out by time-and will keep growing back again and again, until you develop a more sophisticated...
