Support from my hand.
Keep my head up.
Frightened by the thought of her beauty.
How she glistens in the sun and sparkles with the moon.
Desiring her to share a bit of her "perfection" with me.
Her scent dances on my nose.
I am filled with wrath.
How could one be so oblivious?
My nails, bitten and thin.
Her hands long like a pianist and nails the color of her lips.
I just wish to touch her face to prove her unreality.
But no scar or sign of struggle to belong lives on her skin.
Oh, I wish to be her.
To escape my solitude and be wanted by all.
I need to be her.
I need to be this person that others see.
I need to be happy and feel home in my own body.
I want to be the girl in the my mirror.