The Reflection of MyselfI stared in the mirror, eyebrows furrowed. I squinted my eyes, then opened them real wide. I looked my body up and down, turning at all different angles. Too chunky here, too thin there. Eyes too far apart; nose too big. I criticized every inch of my body. I glanced around my full body mirror; I had plastered pictures of beautiful women all around it that I had ripped out of magazines. I studied the pictures every time I looked in the mirror, which was often. No matter what I bought, changed, or fixed, I could never seem to be satisfied with myself.
I sighed deeply and placed my head on the mirror, palm to palm with my reflection. Maybe if my stingy parents would give me more money for clothing or makeup resources...
"Why do you torture yourself like this?" I jerked my hand off the mirror and turned around. No one was in my room but me. Maybe I was hearing things. I turned back around and looked into the mirror. "Your eyes are blind to what matters."
I gasped, cupp
SuicideShe was artsy.Suicide5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
She was odd.
She was a victim of the mob.
No one liked her.
No one cared.
They'd make fun or sit and stare.
She didn't cry.
She didn't fight.
She just let them take her rights.
A month went on,
And then one more.
All of their ridicules, alone she bore.
It all built up,
Until one night.
The "bulb" went off- she saw false light.
She chose her fate,
Then and there.
No one would miss her, since no one cared.