December 9, 2012
Dear Death,
I have approximately two days left.
And I am tired. Oh so tired.
I want to curl into a ball, and forget about everything.
But I don't, for the sake of the people I don't love, but who love me.
When I really don't see why.
Remember my cousin I was telling you about? A year ago or so, she gave me this poem. She copied it off the the Internet and onto a piece of paper. That piece of paper is worn and torn from being opened so much.
The title of the poem
The Plight of the Mirror Looker
I am the Mirror Looker,
At least that's what they call me.
And by they, I mean myself,
'cause no one knows I exist.
I am the Mirror Looker,
I see through every mirror in the world,
And I observe all who look back.
You'd be surprised at what people do,
When they think no one is looking.
Mabey you wouldn't since I've seen you do the same.
People don't lie when there is no one to hear it.
They are honest,
Completly, and utterly honest.
But I am the Mirror Looker,
And I see it all.
I see them in their honesty,
Whether I wish to see or not.
I've seen Confession,
I've seen Tears,
I've seen Players,
I've seen Fears,
I've seen Terrors,
I've seen Revenge,
I've seen Beginings,
I've seen Ends.
Because I am the Mirror Looker,
And that's what I do.
I see things in people
That no one else does.
I'm doomed to do it forever, I think,
Which greatly troubles me.
I agonize over it day and night.
But there is no one to hear me.
I see everyone; no one sees me.
But that is not what hurts the most...
What hurts the most is when I see the crying woman,
But I can't tell her she's not alone,
When I see the bullied boy,
But I can't tell him that I'd be his friend,
When I see the torn child,
But I can't tell her she's not to blame for her parent's divorce,
When I see the man who wishes he was dead,
But I can't tell him that I wish I could die for him,
When I see the greiving widow,
But I can't tell her how much her husband loved her,
When I see the righteous man who goes unnoticed,
But I can't tell him that I appreciate his virtuosity,
When I see the rejected girl,
But I can't tell her how beautiful she really is,
When I see the soldier who cries for his family,
But I can't tell him that they cry for him too,
When I see the man who thinks he can't,
But I can't tell him that he can,
When I see the broken heart,
But I can't tell of the new love just around the corner,
When i see the shattered soul,
But I can't tell of time's healing hand.
This world is filled to the brim with pain and suffering,
And what hurts me most is that I can't do anything about it.
But you can.
For I am the Mirror Looker
And this is my plight.
But you are a free soul,
So what will be yours?
I didn't write this. My cousin didn't write this. I don't know who did. But it's a really good poem.
Better than anything I'll ever write.
So there's that. Like I said earlier I'm tired. Oh so tired.
I'm gonna get rest. That way I won't be tired for my death.
Yours soon,
The Dying Girl
