The Girl Next Door

Every morning, I see the girl next door.
She wakes up and rolls out of bed.
I mimic her, although I can’t take anymore.
I leave my thoughts, the thoughts left unsaid,
And prepare for another day instead.

Every morning, I see the girl next door.
She grabs her makeup bag.
I mimic her, although I can’t take anymore.
I sit up, for the rest of day my body will drag,
Its’ a something I can’t shake of, a heavy bag.

Every morning, I see the girl next door.
She takes her blush to lighten her skin.
I mimic her, although I can’t take anymore.
I nevertheless, use it to hide where the bruises had been,
Knowing that even today would not be a win.

Every morning, I see the girl next door.
She takes her eye linear to make her eyes brighter.
I mimic her, although I can’t take anymore.
I however, use it to make the pain in my eyes look lighter,
I like to think I will emerge from this world, a fighter.

Every morning, I see the girl next door.
She takes her lip gloss and carefully applies it
I mimic her, although I can’t take anymore.
I however use it to hid the frown and to the world befit,
And now this person in the mirror, ready for the world, as I submit.

Every morning, I see the girl next door.
She walks out the door, a different being.
I mimic her, although I can’t take anymore.
But I see that both of us, from ourselves are fleeing,
Leaving ourselves, knowing that every part of us is disagreeing.

Every morning, I see the girl next door.
I see the tear that rolls down her cheek.
But hiding it, has now become, to her, a chore.
I muster the courage and then go up to her to speak,
And remind her that weak must help the weak.