There’s something strange about a mirror, 

It doesn’t feel like you’re looking at yourself for a moment. 

 

Here lays a girl typing away, pretty and not a care in the world. 

That is not me. 

Here lays a girl, wondering why she looks so, 

Feeling unfamiliar as she stands sideways 

And assumes infuriating poses in angles unflattering but true. 

That is not me. 

Here lays a girl smiling and ready, ready to claw with fierce unpolished nails, 

Her heavy stomping boots serve as her burden horse who carries her in the day. 

That is not me. 

These images are not me. 

I am the girl heard in words. 

Created as my fingers dance across the keyboard, playing it’s music with the one in the background. 

Who I may be I do not know for sure. 

Am I discovering her or letting her go? 

 

I see two people, perhaps four or more. 

They line around me in a circle, 

And I must choose one, 

But how can I when there is no mirror to let me know how I truly look? 

There is no mirror, just words on a screen, 

Words on a warm contraption with music in the background, laying next to me like a lover as we spoon. 

I can only hope my words do not fail in a fire or crash, 

I do not wish to fail. 

A useless wish I know, 

Fool. 

 

Fool. 

Perhaps that is the word I seek to mirror me. 

Fool is I, for there is no mirror, there are only words. 

Words are my mirror. 

May you be more lucky than I, to be blessed in ignorance, 

may you never know what I mean. 

Be the fool that I cannot be, be the fool who believes they are not, 

be naive and confident and sure of oneself. 

Be simple and loving and be a mirror of oneself. 

There are no mirrors, only words. 

What are your words?