In the Springtime, she
Emerges, no scars or pain;
Only hope and love.

At first, surrounded
By those she wished to call friends.
And they played along.

Play dates, sleepovers,
Hanging out on the weekends.
Once happy and free.

She is eight Springs old,
Enamored with thoughts of her
So-called “perfect” life.

Just in fairy tales
Is this a reality;
Lesson soon to come.

People come and go.
She learns the art of quiet,
Constant loneliness.

Friends become strangers
As once beautiful bonds break
Over no reason.

She grows twice as fast
In maturity than others,
Because she has to.

Grandpa dies, father
Lies and leaves the family,
Mother gets depressed.

Sister gets angry;
Younger siblings need a rock.
Only she is left.

She tries to be strong,
She tries to be brave; but only
Succeeds in breaking.

Now thirteen Springs old,
She stands in front of the mirror
Despising herself:

Bad case of acne.
Overlarge stomach and thighs.
Frizzy wild mane.

Imperfect vision.
Mouthful of metal braces.
Stutter when she speaks.

Monsters devour
Her soul, speaking aloud her
Secret inner thoughts.

She spends her evenings
Holding back the tears, for fear
That someone might see.

Her mind was a mine,
Liable to be set off
By the smallest thing.

It pulled her deeper
And deeper into the dark
Until she was gone.

At fifteen Springs old,
She found a light in the dark
And fought her way out.

Darkness follows her,
Threatening her every thought,
Yet still she has light.

She slips back into
The darkness unwittingly,
Trying to escape.

But the demons are
Too strong and the pain is too
Much; she loses her light.

The light stays with her,
Extinguished by the demons
But nevertheless.

She knows it is there,
Although she cannot see it
And she is grateful.

In her Eighteenth Spring,
She dares the mirror once more
To show her darkness.

Her blue eyes widen,
For she doesn’t recognize
The beauty she sees.

The light shines brightly,
Too brightly for any dark.
She smiles, for real.

A radiant smile,
Lasting until the demons
Pull her down again.