That girl in my reflection

looks a lot like me

but we're different on the inside

because unlike her, I'm free.

free to come

and free to go,

free to pick flowers,

free to eat snow

free to call friends,

to swim at the pool,

free to read books,

and pass notes at school.

But she has to appear

whenever I say,

and I wonder what she does

when I go away!

Ever since Alice,

I've willed myself to go

through to the other side,

but how I'll never know.

I watch her face, wondering what she's thinking.

Then I know, from that familiar look.

She's so readable, but tries to wear a mask.

A mask that everyone can see right through.

She gives me a grimace, and that's okay,

because my mask is just as worn.

Her eyes meet mine, brown and brown.

I would say they look like an ocean,

but again, brown.

No, they pierce so deep,

I imagine that she's seeing my soul.

Because, I can see her's,

it's beautiful.

So many colors and hues.

With bittersweet memories,

long, lost, buried thoughts.

Explosions of light,

shimmers of stars.

I hope that the soul she's looking at is just as beautiful.

I see her standing, looking

Not liking what she must see

Yet no matter what I tell her

The mirror speaks louder than me

It can't hear her voice or laughter

It doesn't understand her pain

It hasn't held her curves or softness

Its flat surface renders them plain

It has no depth to hold her feelings,

No way to say it cares

There's no judgement in its surface

Only saddened, earnest stares

If I could take away its power

And draw away her face

Let my eyes reflect her beauty

And my words describe her grace

Would it paint a better picture?

Or will she only ever see

The empty shell around the soul

Who means everything to me?

I stand in front of the mirror,

you towering over me from behind.

You tell me of the girl you see.

Brilliant

Gorgeous

Witty

Powerful

All I want to be is the girl on the other side of the mirror that you see.

I stare back

at

The Girl on the Other Side of the Mirror,

gazes locked,

I focus on her.

I smile,

and

I suddenly feel like wanting to reach outwards

and

pulling her out of the glass,

to turn her into something real,

someone real,

not just

a reflection,

a mirrored image.

Like

'Alice Through the Looking Glass',

I want to step into it,

and perhaps there

is where I will find her,

The Girl On the Other Side of the Mirror.

30.6.2020

the girl on the other side of the mirror

looks on in pain

her mouth opens

but her shouts are in vain

for nothing but

silence will remain

as the girl on the other side of the mirror

choses another persona to claim

Looking in the mirror is confusing to me.

It flashes an image of someone I thought I knew.

Why can't  I  see what everyone  else sees?

A soft voice and an innocent smile-

The person I  wished to be, though seemed to never see.

Or is it that I  never saw me like I  needed to see?

I never pondered the things that were unseen-my strengths and abilities and talents inside.

Instead I looked in the mirror and held onto my flaws-the imperfections and blemishes

That stared back at me.

Time has passed me by and I now know what's important

To look past the image and deep inside the person

And see the hidden secrets that glare back in the mirror.

And now I do know it's not what you see that counts the most

it's what this girl sees looking back in the mirror.

Mirror mirror on the wall she

would call

Yet never staring at the image it shows

For the mirror never lies. That she knows

Her reflection would tell stories she tries to hide away.

Demons that she wanted to forget but still they stay.

The Girl in the Mirror, I see her every morning, every night. She's what they see. She's the perfect daughter. The smart, responsible, well-behaved student. A great friend, no one seems to dislike her. She stares back at me, a faraway look, longing perhaps... but more sad. Her mouth shows a smile, the pretty little smile that everyone wants to see. But her eyes give everything away. If only someone looked a little deeper... a little further, if only someone found bothered to scratch beneath the surface, they would see a very different person.

They would see how imperfect she was. Every flaw. Every thought, every idea, a different side of her. They would see how she breaks every night, studying through the night, doing her best to perfect her grades for her parents approval. They would see how alone she feels, how she feels no one really understands her. How she thinks people only want to see the perfect Her. No one sees the tears. No one sees the anxiety. No one sees the nail-biting, the shaking knees, the constant little nervous ticks. She fears that someone will see it.

She fears someone will see it, and that no one will accept her anymore.

So before she steps out, she puts on the smile, and hopes no one sees the tears she has wiped away.

No one usually does.