Too much to hope for;
Refusing to wish anymore.
Tries to run away,
But she's held at bay.
Captivated, enraptured;
Awaiting whatever happens next.
A disconnect between
Mind and body.
She struggles to regain control.

No physical bruises appear.
No blood of hers to smear.
But the heart slowly breaks.
And her soul begins to ache.
Afflicted, oppressed.
This part she keeps hidden.
Bears the pain, puts on the mask.
At the end of the day
She's just a masochist without a reflection.

People only willingly see
What we want to be perceived.
No one looks beyond
And unravels what is wrong.
Silent, entangled.
Locked away in this prison
Of her own cognizance.
Falling ever further
In attempt to break free.

Wearily she draws near.
Shattering the mirror.
The shards glimmer on the floor.
Disjointed images guide her to the door.
Broken, alone.
Unshed tears long to make 
Their way down her face.
At the end of the day
She's just a masochist without a reflection.

~*~Holly~*~