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1 min read

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mirror, mirror on the wall


they always warned her about
broken mirrors:
the way it’s pieces could pierce 
the skin,
blood trickling towards 
her finger tips.
but they never warned her about
the smooth mirrors:
whose reflection was 
full of tags,
disgust staring back at her, 
scanning her body,
imperfections screaming for attention.

they never warned her about
the smooth mirrors:
the ones that hide nothing 
and reveal everything. 
they don’t leave 
the outer scars,
never fully reveal
the battle within–
the desire to be
happy,
the recognition of the need 
to nurture.

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