In the mirror,

I stare at my opposite twin

who stares back at me.

She is beautiful, yet worn;

she is mysterious, yet ordinary.

And there is no way of talking to her

other than through her image of being

(No words need to be spoken

for her lips to tell a story).

Her dark brown eyes

scream, “I am in here. Please.”

And the day finally arrives

when she becomes me.

It is she who walks the halls

with a big smile and perfect braids,

while I am trapped in the mirror,

silently afraid.

“I am in here. Please,” I scream.

“Let me be free.”

 

Through the lens,

I become a beautiful version of me:

the glitter covers the circles under my eyes,

my hair is curled,

I’m dressed in white.

The camera says to smile big

and I tilt my head a little to the right,

place my scarred hand behind the light,

cross my ankles very lady-like,

and I feel like a knotted necklace—

too tightly wound

to ever be securely found again.

 

On the page,

I am gorgeous

with dark brown eyes and perfect braids.

My eyes become a cave—

only I can faintly hear the echo

of my inner self lost behind a photograph.

“You look so good,” they say,

and yet they read me like a banned book—

something of intrigue, but not of understanding.

Their seeing eyes are only desperate

For the visible lies of the hashtag near a name:

a name only six letters in length,

it becomes lost behind

the clamoring labels of overwhelming strength.

 

In the world,

I am smart.

I am short.

I am kind.

And yet those are merely words

of what I am—not who I am—

in the eyes of the blind.

I am a math nerd

who finds solace in working algorithms.

I am an English fanatic

who fawns over the beauty of words.

I am a Disney fan

who cries in belief of a perfect world.

I am a rocker-chick

who feels empowered by the bass in my chest.

I am a band geek

who feels the emotion of each beat of silence that comes next.

I am a volleyball girl

who craves the rush of a win.

I am an optimist

who always smiles when the light gives way to sin.

I am a sister

who finds love in the small things in life.

I am a daughter

who carries the meaning of family with pride.

I am an inspiration

for a rebellion against

the constant whisper of labels we see.

I am nobody in this world

if I am not me.

 

In the skin,

I am only a mirrored reflection

of the soul within.

I can hear it screaming.

“I am in here! Please!”

And in my mind,

I set it free.