Mirror, Mirror


even to yourself

the person in the mirror has become somebody else

a passing glance

causes a pause

as your heart stalls

you look again

it's you

but to who?

the world? your mother?

your boss? your lover?

your reflection is your projection to the impressionable

a world so foldable and moldable

clay in the hands of the beholder

you can be anyone you so choose


but for today please choose to be you.


I choose to be me.

A girl who had to witness abuse at age three

divorce, anger, resentment, confusion

all part of the twisted illusion

the illusion that

that was who I am.

No—that is who I WAS.

who I AM is strong, loved, and at peace with the past

because the past does not last

who you were may leave a scar

but that in no way determines

who you are.

This poem is about: 
My family
Our world


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