April 10, 2008
By Lylia Benhacine, Carrollton, TX

a single mirror stands in the middle of the room,
beckoning, inviting me.
i step in front of it,
gazing at my reflection.
listless eyes, lost, bewildered,
a dam of passion hidden within their depths.
my reflection is crying,
tears flowing freely down its face.
i touch my cheek, expecting wetness,
but there is nothing.
bemused, i look at the brown pools of apathy, my eyes,
and i understand.
i am empty.
this time, the tears sliding down my cheeks are real.
"allow yourself to feel," whispers my reflection.
"it hurts," i mumble back.
without warning, a searing fury courses through me,
and i shatter the mirror,
too numb to feel shards of glass slit my skin.
i sit down and begin to sob,
acknowledging my agonizing imperfection,
my reflection now as broken as i am.

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