September 20, 2008
Support from my hand.
Keep my head up.
Frightened by the thought of her beauty.
How she glistens in the sun and sparkles with the moon.
Desiring her to share a bit of her "perfection" with me.
Her scent dances on my nose.
I am filled with wrath.
How could one be so oblivious?
My nails, bitten and thin.
Her hands long like a pianist and nails the color of her lips.
I just wish to touch her face to prove her unreality.
But no scar or sign of struggle to belong lives on her skin.
Oh, I wish to be her.
To escape my solitude and be wanted by all.
I need to be her.
I need to be this person that others see.
I need to be happy and feel home in my own body.
I want to be the girl in the my mirror.

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