Wednesday, April 24, 2013


I drew a picture
of what I thought
I looked like
and realized
it's not me at all.

It's just who I wished I was.
It's who others want me to be.
It's an ugly fantasy
that pins me down
and suffocates me.

I light a match
and hold it to the corner
of the paper.
The flame crawls
up the side
and the image
floats up into smoke
and ash.

The mirror is my enemy,
you're either with me
or against me.
I'm beautiful
even if I don't see it
or tomorrow.

You and the ashes
can just float away.

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