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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


the recognition of the need

to nurture.

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