I woke up one morning,
And looked in the mirror,
I found my skin fully of acne,
My hair out of control.
When I got dressed, nothing looked right.
I didn't have the right shoes,
'I'm ugly,' I thought,
And turned around.
A man stood, holding a shotgun.
Holes were in his feet, side, and hands.
"Oh, dear Jesus help me!" I cried,
The man said, "I Am."
The first shot rang out,
Glass shattered, and I look around.
The mirror behind me,
Was now all over the ground.
He walked out of the room,
Again I heard the shattering glass.
Over and over he destroyed the mirrors,
Much to my dismay.
When every mirror was gone,
He came back and started to talk,
His voice full of kindness and love.
These were his gentle words:
"Your beautiful child!"
I stared in disbelief as he went on,
"I created you,
That's what really counts."
The mirror is all wrong
Don't listen to what it says."
He was gone in a moment,
And I woke from the dream.
I walked past the mirror without a glance,
I brushed my hair, got dressed,
All without a care.
As I walked out the door I heard a voice in my head:
"That's my beautiful little girl."
I smiled and said,
"Yes, it is."
And continued on my way.
