• Through the mirror, stands a girl,
    with greater potential,
    perhaps may seize, instead of captured.
    Couldn't help but ashamed,
    she never understood the way of the heart,
    that girl was I.

    Through the shattered fragments,
    I see her wounds, of barren and isolation.
    She wanted to leave, never come back,
    conceive with thoughts,
    gripped by fear, she kept holding on,
    and couldn't let go, that girl was I.

    Until one day, that one girl you saw,
    that one girl, who may one day grasp,
    what is rightly hers,
    her flight to paradise, or crowds and spoken words.
    Healed of terror, you see her rise,
    and proclaim she was hers to command,
    to do what ever she pleased,
    she finally left that side.
    Out of the shattered mirror, that girl was I.

    What she thought was a dream,
    too good to be true, came back the side,
    who she attempted to escape,
    became surrounded with its thought,
    came to a decision of worthlessness and insignificant.
    She kneeled down to cry, her words not spoken,
    came back as a strike of pain as knives carved on her heart.
    Striped of her identity, that girl was I.