There's a girl in my mirror.
Her eyes are sad even when she smiles.
I'm scared of her.
She moves confidently, unaware of the flaws her body holds.
Her mouth whispers lovely words in flowing sentences.
She blends into a crowd.
She is content; she fits.
The girl on my side of the mirror...
She knows the truth.
I'm scared of her.
She moves awkwardly through space, concentrating on holding herself in to hide her flaws.
She stutters when conversing, eventually reasoning with herself that silence is better.
She blends in with a crowd.
With the walls.
The air.
Where did she go?
Into her mirror.
