I've become more mirror than window
Instead of permitting admittance into my heart
I've allowed individuals to place their own image there
If only for a brief time
I've let them come and gander
Then waltz away, like nothing happened
This should end
It should
But can it?
Am I secure enough to show everyone what I contain?
Is it possible for me to become transparent?
At least enough for people to see me
The real me
The me that writes, that takes everything to heart
That spends her nights dwelling on the past
I would love to be a window
It's my dream to display my true self
Without shame or inhibition
Instead, I'll sit and sulk with everyone else
All the other mirrors
And dream of being a window someday