Through the broken mirror, I see myself.
And wonder what has become of the younger me.
When sleepovers happened every week,
With truth or dare and blond adorees.
We watched Harriet the Spy and ate pizza,
The group of girls and me.

I'm happy that we parted ways,
I've moved on to closer friends.
But there was something less cliche,
When everyone was the same outside,
And struggling to stray...

But I ask myself from this modern me,
How can that be the truth?
Can beauty be only skin deep,
An element of youth?

Surely not, I tell myself.
Because my true idols are
Older and worn with knowledge,
Beauty that cannot be seen from afar.

And today I would look strange,
If the past me took a glance.
For outside I look so tired,
The inside stands no chance.

This is the saga of the estrainged soul,
Worn out well and the one to call,
If ever in need of a curing thought,
For I've seen it all, and for self-expression I've fought.

Report Story

byravenshadow13© 1 comments/ 1467 views/ 0 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

1 Pages:1

Please Rate This Submission:

Please Rate This Submission:

  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
Please wait
by Anonymous

If the above comment contains any ads, links, or breaks Literotica rules, please report it.

There are no recent comments (1 older comments) - Click here to add a comment to this poem or Show more comments or Read All User Comments (1)

Add a

Post a public comment on this submission (click here to send private anonymous feedback to the author instead).

Post comment as (click to select):

Refresh ImageYou may also listen to a recording of the characters.

Preview comment

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar: