Gazing

Gazing into a mirror, each morning everyday something new appears.

I look in the mirror at the flesh of what I’ve know to be me all my life. Until one day all the imperfections stood out. The mirror broke scattering pieces across the floor. I bent down to pick up the pieces and realized that I am the pieces, in pieces. As I look at myself separated in all those pieces the mirrors pieces began to shatter even more. What am I?

The imperfections start to appear more and more by now my hands are bloody from trying to pick up the pieces of myself. Every time I try to fit a piece together I bleed more and the pieces don’t fit. Voices in my head are telling me “you are the crowd you keep”, how true is this? Have I become the very ones that I despise? Am I no better than the enemy? I am not like her, but wait who is the girl in all these pieces of the mirror? Am I like her? Is that I or am I she?

I remember her I finally got a hold to a piece. Wait. I remember. She is the girl who gave one her all and in return he gave her an empty spot in her heart. There is a whole straight through it. Only thing is the heart is still beating but it has no rhyme to rely on. She was the girl who had a best friend that betrayed her trust. I remember she was the girl that bounced from home to home looking for someone to end the looking. The girl she gave up on life.

My hand, oh my hands are so torn. I’m throbbing I still cant put the mirror back together I cant let her fall apart and stay that way I must help her. She is trying to help herself, but she needs me. Me only I can help her. Am I she? Is she me? I am her! I’m picking her up, but every time I pick her up a new cut appears on my hand and I throw the glass back down and it shatters into more pieces.

This girl in the mirror keeps hurting my hands. She wants me to pick up the pieces and put her back together, but I can’t. I keep bleeding. And she, she keeps crying.