I look regularly into the mirror in the bathroom.
There’s a girl, lonely, alone.
That girl has eyes that have seen too much,
ears that haven’t heard enough.
Pain to her is never ending,
for love and truth have become rare commodities.
She reaches out, hoping to find what’s missing,
but she only grabs a handful of air.
I pity her, for she doesn’t know how much she’s worth.
That poor girl hasn’t been shown
that she is important and she is wanted.
In her heart, she knows that others care,
but her roots haven’t been allowed to grow.
Instead of being anchored and having a home,
the girl is like a dirt-devil spinning out of control.
Who will tell her what she needs to hear?
I don’t know. But, for now, I try to comfort her.
You see, that girl needs my support;
otherwise, her world would tumble to the ground.
That girl finally has a friend that will never leave,
and one that will always tell her the truth.
I am that girl and she is me. And we will survive.
Girl in the Mirror [poem]
