Why does she hate herself? Why can’t she love herself? Why does she destroy herself? Why does she torment herself? Why can’t she be happy for herself? Why does she lie to herself? Why does she not accept herself? She looks in the mirror only to repeat words of hate towards herself. She is blind by the darkness she holds onto. She cannot accept who she is. She hides herself wanting to change who she is. She changes her hair and she changes her clothes. She smiles, she laughs, she tries to fool herself. She is naïve. She is childish. She doesn’t stand up for herself. She is envious. She is discouraged. She is pitiful. She is scared. She is sad. She is angry. She is dark. She is me.
She wishes for help from above, but she loses faith. She is broken. She is forgotten. Her self-loathing sings its song the loudest when alone. She is me. She is the girl I see everyday in the mirror. She is that shadow that follows me when I am at my brightest, she appears besides me as a reminder ‘you are broken and until you can accept yourself I’ll always be there.’
My demon that is me, my angel that has yet to appear. I am she and she is me.