Cry as I Draw a picture of a girl so withered and worn,with a composed face,and a disguising mask she once worn.



Why is she so familar,did I only See her in my dreams ? Such a close bond we share it seems.



But then I see it. The features we share, the look on our faces means we don't care.



Am I Her ? Is She Me ? She's No one else I've ever seen. With Screaming eyes, that no one can read. They Look so upset, like her anger must feed.



I glimpse at the mirror and debate to take a look. Hoping not to resemble the drawing in my notebook.



I walk to the mirror *Inhale*, look in and peer. *Gasp* We look like twins ! Heart stops as my head spins.



Never knew eyes so brown could look so black. Lips not smiling; happiness lacks. With anger in her eyes and heart in her heart, the silence in her throat will not let her lips part. The dark shadows under her eyes are deep. Cause by a sprinting mind, that never slows even for sleep.



I crumple my drawing in my hands and want to tear it to shreds. Zombie she is; walking, breathing, DEAD.



"I hate her, I hate you, I hate Me ?!" I questionably Scream. Is my drawing a penciled reflection of me, or is my mirror reflection my alive-scetched dream ?



I can feel her numb, and hear her silence. See that those dark eyes are anger, Not Violence.



These girls are the same, except one's paper and one's glass. I try to let go of this revelation, and pray for it to pass.



I uncrumple my drawing, while regret sneeks in, and instantly starts gnawing. I tape it up to my reflection in the mirror. These twins instantly ignite me, and slowly begin to sear.



But now I truly see that these girls with anger in their eyes, hurt in their hearts, and silence in their thoats...are no other girl but me.