When I look in the mirror,

I see another reflection—

of my broken self.

She’s full of lies,

hatred, and…

jealousy.

I ask her:

“Why can’t I be like her?”

“What does she have… that I don’t?”

“What… makes her so damn special?!”

But—

She’s looking right at me,

ashamed of who I’ve become.

And what—

I made her become.

I talked back to her,

punishing her for something

that was never her fault.

I yelled—

with full rage.

I cried—

with full pain.

While gripping the brush,

I threw it.

Pieces of glass

falling down.

Each piece—

opening new wounds.