Broken Glass

December 9, 2011
The glass in front of me is foggy,
Clouded with words like
“Hate”
“Ugly”
“Fat”
These are the words that define me.
I look into the mirror and see nothing,
But a girl who does not look like the others.
Where is her perfect, blonde hair?
Or her impeccable skin?
Her hair is in knots,
Her legs looking as if,
They have been bruised
And weigh 102 pounds themselves.
Her body hangs limp,
Her face ghostly,
Because her life has been stolen from her.
Stolen like a golden key that fits into that one drawer,
Full of treasures.
However, the life full of happiness is not there.
The smiles,
The perfections,
The feelings of confidence,
Have been snatched.
All that is left,
Is an empty glass,
That’s water has been poured out.
She stares again into the
Broken glass.





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