I know it's me,
but it's not the real me.
I'm broken:
soul shattered,
pieces scattered.
Why does she get to be whole??
I'm the one who must smile
and pretend everything's peachy-fuckin-keen.
So I broke her:
punched until my knuckles bled
and shards of glass decorated the room.
Mirror shattered,
pieces scattered.
At least now my reflection is accurate...