The Mirror

I avoid the mirror

I need to.

It's the only way to hide.

I can see her. Every time I look in the mirror, she's standing there beside me.

"What have you done to me?" Her eyes bore in the me, gnawing into my soul as we reflect in the glass.

I can not respond. There is nothing that could explain this.

She is me, but I am not her.

Years went by, and we seemed to be split.

One innocent and wide eye. The other bitter, panicked, and clinging onto a thread of hope.

I have become a Benedict Arnold to myself.

Ideas, words, and thoughts lost to time all for my own gain, which I never managed to earn.

Running to glory but falling to a void where I lost myself along the way.

The glass kept it all. It shows it all back to me.

It will never let me free.

I avoid the mirror

And the thoughts that scream at me when I look at it, looking for release.