I look in the mirror
see a face the isn't mine.
I walk down the street..
people greet me with you're "" daughter.
I speak my mind...
I'm just like my father.
I don't look in the mirror...
because I hate what I see.
I see a monster..
looking back at me.
I look in the mirror...
And looking back is the warrior.
The face in the mirror is bloody..
battle scarred...
The face in the mirror...
is a heartless beast
who doesn't care...
who doesn't mind the blood seeping down Her fingers..
as long as she protecting one of the important three.
The person in the mirror..
is not me.
She is too broken..
too damaged....
too afraid...
I look in the mirror
And hate the person staring back at me.
So I stopped looking in the mirror maybe then I can forget...
that everyone only sees
my parent...
The monster..
The warrior...
The beast..
instead just me.
My name isn't important
it really doesn't matter.
I'm just a monster...
wearing a face..
that never quite fit to begin with.
YOU ARE READING
Through My Eyes.
PoesíaThrough My Eyes is about my experiences. Some of them are dark some not so much. I'm writing this in hopes it helps someone.
