Mirror

Layers of flesh, which do not agree with me, surround my awakened soul.

The mirror reveals all the things that are not I,

Nor anything that I’ve come to be.

The girl whom I recognize is not one I should reside in.

She hates herself; she isn’t happy with the mirror she glances into.

The One who created my soul must have been very confused.

He must not have known me that well,

Nor the one He enthralled me in.

Because if He did, He would not have placed us together.

We don’t understand each other, and never are we on the same terms.

The girl I own, (or better: the girl who owns me), expects too much.

She wishes the world would accept her.

She wants everyone to enjoy her and her pathetic company.

I’m appalled at everything she thinks she likes,

Everything she wants to know.

Everything she despises.

Everywhere she wants to go.

Why can’t she be happy?

What is it that makes her heart so sad?

She hates her bones that ache,

She hates her smile she fakes.

She hates her long, skinny nose.

She hates how she wears her clothes.

She hates her loud, obnoxious laugh.

She hates the way she’s always sad.

She hates how she always loves,

Yet no one loves her in return.

She hates how she still hasn’t learned.

She hates her ugly feet,

She hates why she no longer sleeps.

She hates all her unwelcomed birthmarks,

And she hates her forgiving heart.

She hates her awkward body,

She hates her bones, always rotting.

But most of all, she hates herself.

She hates the mirror that speaks the words she refuses to hear.

She hates the book she clings to, yet it never seems truly near.

So what did my soul do wrong to deserve this?

Why did I get stuck with a girl who hates herself?

Don’t you think, because of her thoughts, her actions, her words,

And her motives,

That maybe, I would begin to think that way, too?

If the body I’m given doesn’t love itself,

Why should I love it?

What God would do such a thing, to such an innocent, beautiful soul,

To deserve this torture which I must accept?

My soul has never experienced the kind of pain

Her body has gone through until recently.

Even though this poor, helpless body deals with physical pain

Not many eighteen-year old bodies usually feel,

Mental, spiritual, and emotional pain sometimes is much worse.

She cries when the mirror reveals the things she hates to see,

She cries when she realizes nobody understands.

I pity her thoughts in the middle of the night,

When everyone has gone to bed,

When all her thoughts have been left unsaid.

She doesn’t wish to end her life,

But then again she doesn’t want to deal with this burden anymore.

The God I try to show her, she wants nothing to do with.

She just wants the pain to end.

She wants to be loved and to be accepted.

But she can’t get that,

Nobody is willing to apply her needs and go along with her desires.

I hear her repulsive thoughts one day, as she’s driving in her car.

She pulls out of her house, out of her driveway,

And onto the main road.

The thoughts I hear are unquestionable,

Outrageously chaotic and absurd.

She doesn’t want to take her life,

But she hopes and prays someone takes it for her.

My soul screams and demands her to not think such abominable thoughts,

For I’m in this with her.

This would affect me just as much as it would her.

I don’t want to die.

There’s so much to accomplish, so many things to do.

She’s only lived eighteen years.

Doesn’t she know she has so much to look forward to?

She finally agrees with me.

She knows she doesn’t mean it, she knows it was wrong of her to say.

But no one understands.

No one could look at her and think she’s beautiful.

No one has given her the chance

She needs and wants and wishes to uphold.

She begins to see that maybe there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Perhaps this hope thing is actually true.

She has her good days and her bad,

She goes from happy to upsettingly sad.

I keep telling her there’s a reason for all this mess.

I’m showing her how much I love her,

How much my God loves her,

How much the people surrounding her love her.

We all do.

The One who created her adores her existence.

He created her for me.

I was created for her.

I don’t belong to her.

And she doesn’t belong to me.

We belong to Him.

After months of convincing, hoping, praying, wishing, and loving,

She gives in.

The depression that once captivated her heart and mind

Is now standing in the shadows of the blind.

We fought against it together,

Because we were both being affected by the haunting demon.

And now, the mirror is before her with questionable eyes.

The mirror does not reveal all the things that I am not,

Nor anything I’ve come to be.

The girl whom I recognize is the one I should reside in.

She at last loves herself; she is happy with the mirror she glances into.

The One who created my soul must have had her in mind.

He must have known us more than we know ourselves,

Because He placed us together with love.

We truly understand each other, and are now on the same terms.

The girl I own, (or better: the girl who owns me), expects just enough.

She accepts that the world does not accept her. 

She doesn’t mind if no one enjoys her or her company.

She knows she belongs to the world that is yet to come.

I’m appalled at everything she suddenly likes,

Everything she wants to know.

Everything she once despised.

Everywhere she wants to go.

Nothing can compete with her sudden joy. 

Why would she want her heart to be so sad?

Now, she loves her bones that ache,

She loves her smile that is no longer fake.

She loves her long, skinny nose.

She loves how she wears her clothes.

She loves her loud, obnoxious laugh.

She embraces the things that make her sad.

She loves how she always loves,

Even if no one loves her in return.

She loves that she still has so much to learn.

She loves her ugly feet,

She’s okay if she doesn’t sleep.

She loves all her unwelcomed birthmarks,

And she loves her forgiving heart.

She loves her awkward body,

She loves her bones, always rotting.

But most of all, she loves herself.

And as I embrace the one I love the most,

I thank my Savior for rescuing the girl I see in the mirror.

I thank Him for the person she’s come to be.

I’m glad to claim that girl is me.

Author's Note

I had a year of depression, and it's the best feeling in the world to come out of it. I read this poem at an open mic night at a coffee house, and it was amazing to feel the closure of saying goodbye to my depression. I think many girls, and people, could relate to this. Hope you like it!

Reviews

[Lily Mae]

Welcome back.. :) The journey through depression is so heart wrenching and painful.. I'm glad to see your a survivor :) xoxo